


Defective Spirit

by SheMovesInTheShadows



Series: A Journey Of Supernatural Porportions!! [2]
Category: The Originals (TV), True Blood
Genre: 18+, Blood Drinking, Complicated Relationships, Cross Over, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff, Hybrid Love, Hybrids, Love of Nature, Magical References, Mature Readers, Multi, Original Character(s), POV Female Character, Smut, Supernatural Beings, Viking references, Violence, Warlocks, Werewolf, Witches, imagination gone wild, smut for smuts sake, vampire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2018-06-10 03:10:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 57,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6937231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheMovesInTheShadows/pseuds/SheMovesInTheShadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Installation 2: Follows 'What Illusion Is This?'</p><p>It was time to move on. Turn away from the colorful glare of New Orleans lights, & certain undead families.<br/>You were hiding secrets once more. One which needed to be kept clear of unsuspecting eyes.<br/>Sookie was safe. Away from those who would do her harm. But how long would that remain so? Your magic was becoming unreliable at best. Not trusting it to protect anyone, let alone Eric's Fae.<br/>Could you escape Louisiana under the radar, live a more natural life.<br/>Or would something pull you back?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Once Upon A Time

**Author's Note:**

> Just a bit of fluff.  
> Harmless fun.
> 
> Hope you enjoy reading it.  
> Let me know what you think.  
>   
> PS: Chapters with '***' work similar to (XxX)  
> So be warned & have fun!!
> 
> " Always & Forever"  
> ☺ ✌ ❤
> 
> *****************The Legal Type Stuff*******************  
> ©All Rights Reserved to The Originals Creators and CW.  
> ©All Rights Reserved to True Blood Creators and HBO.  
> ©All Rights Reserved on characters of Alicia Ballo, Merete & any/all subsequent new characters and alternate storyline not created by the above Copyright holders and shows.  
> (Hope that covers it. Any new character/s or their backplot/storylines not owned by The Originals or True Blood are solely my own creation and I hold any/all copyright regarding them.)

Gusts brought the trees to life. Hearing them creak melodiously around me, followed by flurries of feathers. Birds spread their wings to vacate their twisting homes.

Tumbling free to get away from such unsturdy structures. Some hovering in the hope nests would remain intact when the shaking ceased. Their vocals harsh with tendrils of worry. Many having to leave their young, hatchlings, or eggs to weather the storm, so to speak.

I pressed on. Knowing this was natures way of shaking the strong from the weak. Feeling slightly heartless, yet this uncontrolled power, if used to help them would do more harm than good. I had pressed to hard. Continued despite warning not to.

Here was the price. Fear. Afraid of my own strength. Helpless to use it correctly.  

I had come to persue Merete. To find the one other who could give some insight into what plagued me now. 

The surges of power which took over if I was too free with magical castings. 

Well, that was a mistruth. It wasn't only an occurance that presented itself when I used my gift, no, more worringly the fireworks flew free when I least expected. 

If tiptoes of stress crept in, the fuse would light. And who could keep track of what vexed them in such minute detail, to pinpoint when match had been stuck. 

Certainly not me. The cracks of power caught me off guard, even after being so careful. 

Eggshell was no way to live. In constant worry of cracking oneself apart. 

Pulling deep dregs of icy air into my lungs.

'Chill out Alicia, help is at hand. Don't let loose the reigns. Not when we're so close.'

Repeating the sentence in the hope of drowning out the louder more insistant ones.

'You're beyond help.'

'Monster. Killer.'

'Heartless. Your soul is damned.' 

They hollered above all else, never ending in their observations. Pointing out all of the flaws. Everything that caused bother,  this all seemed to be fair game in their unending quest to dismantle me. Take my palace by storm, cross the moat, scale the walls and destroy the whole peaceful place made for repose.

"Child," Meretes voice carried across the last acre of land. Beckoning me to her home with it's steady tone," come. Do not be fearful. I am waiting." 

Trudging on, pulling the earflap hat down forcefully over cold head, I followed it. That voice of reason. 

Trying not to think of my pit stops before reaching here. Putting Meadonforth Park into an iron safe. Slamming the heavy door shut. Twisting a combination to keep it secure for now. 

It was too fresh to examine. Too raw a pain. My own misdeeds.

What was unavoidable was Ansel. 

He was a very real, very obvious reminder of an awful episode of my life. 

I'd left the wolf with his own kind. In the form of Alcide. Swinging by the Herveauxs trailer home. He would be safe there while I dealt with this purely witch problem.

The welcoming sight of Meretes hut met my tired orbs. Daylight was fast leaving the land. Only the last drops remained. Illuminating  sparce few plants through dense, overhead canopy. 

Smoke edged from her makeshift chimney. Dissapating the moment it became caught with updraughts. 

Pushing open the wooden door hesitently to enter. She expected me, but this was no happy visit.

***

"There is a reason you called yourself Ballo." 

Merete stated. Watching her wide eyed, the woman continued crushing herbs into a fine paste. She was working in virtual darkness. Refusing to give into the evening yet, leaving her lantern inlit. 

How she didn't mix up ingredients or mistakenly injure herself a mystery. Moving in such a sure way, as one versed in sensing, feeling with her other abilities. It was mesmerizing.

"Your father, in the old tongue. We called him Bal, Bal of the earth. In our own way,  medicine man. Nature opened itself to him. His way of talking through touch, almost one with that which grew from the soil. Plants bent their way towards his presence. It was a wonder to behold. Breathtaking to watch him work.

Daughter of Bal, There are things that ingrain themselves in you. In your very makeup, your DNA. Even science can be baffled by it. Causing multitude of questions that it is far too young to understand."

Her tempo changing. Softening and slowing down. She was weaving a tale. Moving through the story easily, traversing with footfalls one room to another. Her information a house which would start it's build from the foundation up. 

"Do you know your heritage? The roots from whence you came. It's a long told one."

I shook my head. Moving on the carved sofa to make space for her to sit.  

"All I know is I'm not from this land, but another far away. My father traveled months to find us a new beginning."

"Ah, Mz Ballo. There is a tale. One told for centuries, the line getting embellished over years and different tongues that speak it. 

But first let me take you back. To the time of Quetsiya and her Immortality Spell. She was the most successful at creating such a thing. A life never ending, echoing down through the ages.

Yes, she was genius. Such was her craft. A thing of love and beauty. 

Those actions making their continued mark on the world, through doppelganger s and blood.  These lives spent in the darkness. 

She was the ultimate, none could best her. If things had been different maybe a changed world would face us today. If she had ended her time happy, not plotting revenge."

Merete sighed, reminding herself inwardly not to dwell too long on such sadness. Patting my hand gently before venturing on.

"But child as you know, she was not the only one  to want a life immemorial. Many tried, failed, created beasts far worse than ever imagined. The witches who sadly tried to copy that art weren't always successful, or indeed intelligent. And nature that once was so welcoming turned on them.  

Shunned their works, attempts to play God."

Side tracking her story by shooting a question my way," you've been around Wolves."

"I don't understand," I sighed confusion ripe in the tone. She knew most of my life was lived whether good or bad around those beings." Yes I've... "

"Recently?"

Nodding to the positive.

"That makes me happy. They can be such fantastic creatures."

Chuckling almost wearily to myself," depends on the individual.  On the pack..."

"No child. An alpha minus a pack is still an alpha. And the 'individual' shaped by their own upbringing. Measured by their actions to determine true worth." 

"Have you seen any wolf in particular?" I asked worried. Hoping that Ansel remained with the Herveauxs, not gone further afield.

She shook her head," no but one has you questioning our ties. Have they not?

You see, before monsters, vampires, wolves, those who walk the earth when by all means it should prove impossible. Before all of this, there was the spirits and those who could talk to them. Witches and their guides, good and bad. Dark and light.

 A force called the darkness came. A plague of warped spirits. Posessing people and causing them great harm. Bringing spates of killings in towns and villages. Igniting fear.

So scared of the darkness townsfolk prepositioned a witch. Asking her to use her great power to cast a spell on them. Limit the damage they could do.

Unable to completely rid the world of this evil, the coven managed to cut their reign to a few nights. Times when the moon is at its apex. 

These spirits were furious. Revenge festered, took full hold onto their presence. For they couldn't see why they had been caged so wrongfully. Such anger,  a temper aimed at the witches that cast such a spell. Those magically inclined needed protection from such spectres.

So after much deliberation , countless congregations and meetings.  It was decided by elders to work with nature, team up with one of her most trustworthy of creations. Forging through lunar rays, a breed of being that spent most of its life in human form, but the rest covered in hair. With fangs and venom. 

Protectors. Given great power to heal should they become wounded during battle. They were loyal and pure. Their exhistance known only to the night, certain times when the darkness was allowed to roam free. 

The full moon. It was when celestial light permitted darkness its only release. All the pent up anger, madness allowed to come forth an vent before being bottled up again.  

On such nights they took forms and came for their perceived revenge. Witches alone could not protect the land and the living.

Lycans were born. But allow me to use their more recent name, Weres. Seems the colloqual use of Lycantrope has all but died out. Such a pity, they are a proud and loyal species. Dumbing down their name is almost perversion. But I digress.

Witches and Weres became a collaboration against the forces. Much later came those who lived in the night, consuming blood to survive to further their immortality. Some of these poor creatures born of despair, pain. Revenge.

Gradually over time even the Weres were to succumb to the evil that darkness brings.

Too torn by it. Depleated in numbers from the continued fight for survival. It forced them to change. 

Looking out for themselves and thier pack above all else. Allowing a feeding frenzy not just on the damned but the innocent. 

Chipping away at the friendship that was once shared between the two. Keepers of the earth and protectors of the people.

Even the pure began being swayed. Covens always finding one of their own who wanted too much. Showing tainted soul from the constant swell of shadows.

Many tried to play god. Using spells and science. Inventing new monsters. Their lives not truly immortal, most dying out after mere centuries. None quite replicating Quetsiyahs greatness. Esthers spell was well conducted, made more so by the use of Tatias blood. She inadvertantly used a doppelganger. "

She chuckled. The sound short and one made in disbelief.

"So the Original family came to pass. With true vampiric capabilities and a life they could have for an eternity without fear of sudden degeneration. Other witches not being so lucky in their casting of immortals. 

For who does not want to play god. Reanimate their loved ones. Not ready to let them perish. And so we in our foolish haste brought monsters into this world. 

Only a handful of pure hearts actually left. Your lineage Alicia, is a young one. Not many seen on this earth. So most believe they don't exhist. But we know better. 

In your millennia you have seen wars tear this world at the seams, still managing to hold fast to your purity. Your actions never against an innocent, a mortal. One of the Ancients."

"Ancients?"

"Yes child, ancients. For we were born with warring sides. Personalities made to clash. Pure but birthed with darkness inside. That which has us choose what kind of person to become. The struggle an internal one. But one, if wisely chosen, can balance the scales of nature and monsters. We can be the level of justice earth uses to rid itself of hatred.

Have you not felt it. The members of the dead calling out. To be avenged, to be set free and righted."

I nodded silently. Recalling the Travellers cave and all those innocent souls seeking redemption. Their strength was immense,  bleak, but so stubbornly strong. I'd felt both elated and frightened by it when we had been properly connected. 

Merete spoke onwards.  Stopping her rendition only to sip some tea or cast a vigilant eye over my reactions. 

"You see, we're the wildcard. A loophole in the fabric. Rare but necessary. 

You must heed me child. Darkness is always attracted to light and light to that which would put it out. They can coexhist, as long as one is not obtrusive to the other. As long as they don't abuse the union. 

That is why it is far more beneficial to stay with mortals. Amoung the living. They cannot force you to question the light. Cannot draw you down to the pits of evil. 

You tempth fate, being with blood eaters. Its hard to notice the devil when they smile at you every day. Before you know it you will be speaking with the demons tongue, using their vices in your life and bringing your own impurity to the earth. And nature once so loving will cast you out. 

Arm yourself. Never lay down your blades. Never."

"Merete," I said stalling her warning trade. Twisting off subject to avoid further frantic pleas, " is it possible for magic to become warped?"

She smiled thingly," only if the soul is bent in that way."

Good God, had Freya done something to the very core of my being. It was possible but highly unlikely. Herself and her aunt seemed hellbent on tormenting me. Giving their hatred fueled opinion on everything I did. Was that the way it would start. As instructions that I would eventually cave to, in sheer exhaustion. Would I take on their advise and bust this world apart? 

"Permit me to tell you of your beginnings," she muttered. Using my silence as a chance to continue on with her story. Delving out the information like we would not meet again. 

"It was told that there was a woman. Heavy with child. Her husband became gravely injured protecting their land one night,  when faced with unseen intrusion. 

Leaves and ointments failed to quell his fever. Wounds lay open each day as if gashed afresh during the night.

She was fast loosing hope. And took to her knees, turning her face heavenwards. For days prayed and called for them to be answered. To no avail. 

Afraid of her husbands impeding demise, she shouted out for any aid. Her needs vague. Answered by a pale man. One not of her land. His language filled with promise. 

He took one look at the dying man and told of monsters. She believed he had the answer to her needs. Claiming that he had to travel many lands almost on the brink of death himself to find a cure. Traces of which could be used to help her husband. 

A drop of his blood, as it still flowed fresh in his veins. 

She was hesitant. But he relented, giving her a few drops, advising her to use it on one of the livestock first if she didn't trust the word of a stranger. So she did. Upon seeing the cow remaining fine as sun went down.

She gave him a single drop. When she awoke he was healed, on his feet and working the land. She rejoiced until the stranger returned for payment. He desired some of her blood in exchange for that which had cured her husband so quickly. Asking for a night to think it over, she made her decision. A payment which he took from her neck. 

Flying into a rage when he realised she had protected the innocent in her stomach. She had cast a spell of protection, to keep the child unharmed no matter what was demanded of her.

The man had wanted the blood of one who is pure. Unborn and untainted. When he couldn't taste it in her, he consumed her. Fully intent on ripping the child from her belly and devouring the delacasy. 

But her husband stumbled on the scene. A fight ensued. Sending the stranger fleeing as the village became alerted to the commotion. Verging on death, his wife made him promise to leave the accursed land. Travel to the place where the sea ends, then go far beyond that. 

They stayed with her. The village elders, chanting, using their herbs their medicines. But her blood loss was too great. Teetering on the cornerstones of this world and the next the woman made a last request. The concern for the child in her stomach. She begged for it to be cut out, saved an agonising death. 

So the deed was done. The first and last time she held her child before she passed on. Giving her the mark of nature, kiss of a mothers undying love. A promise to last an eternity.

And so the story goes that the infant, born with a trace of darkness in its veins, needed blood to slake their hunger. But not the blood of the living, no, that of the dead, as revenge for that which stole the final moments of her mother. It was a trade. Always a drop or two would suffice, the deal being entwined into her being. So they traveled as he had promised and started life anew."

Tears stung my eyes. Feeling the cool liquid trail down my cheeks with each blink. My mother had given all for us. Both of us. Her unending love was without reward.  Bitter taste of sadness clogging up my throat. Fighting against the lump that prevented swallowing.

Not only had I found out what I was but my rumoured birthing into the world. 

"Your father was a man of great power, great means Alicia. It devastated his parents that he sought to settle for a mere naturalist. A woman of the earth. Herbs and healing ointments. Dealing in livestock and the problems of females."

"He was the same then," I choked out," they were both..."

No. Tales call him the medicine man. As was his final choice to live as on new shores. In his homeland, the tribes called him Babalawo, 'Father of Mysteries', Shaman. "

It washed over me. My father, Bal. A Shaman? Why did something in that statement ring true.

"He was strong. Something changed when your mother passed. For you see he tried to save her. Gave all he could to no avail. Used each and every thing he knew, all amounting to nothing. Then there was his sickly child. Cut too soon from the womb. He prayed for her, sought answers to help her live. Only when his visions yielded a path did he stop. His powers used one last time. Then left the lands once called home for pastures less dangerous. 

Taking on the teachings and ways of his deceased wife. Living his days as medicine man. Giving his daughter a less perilous path in life. 

He forsaw a day when she would seek to take from him a great disease. Almost killing herself in the process. 

An awful thing to see ones future, yet he took the chance to change it. Fashioning spells to block any exchange of power between them. Keeping the sickness all to himself."

Cold chill igniting my veins. That explained my inability to see what tormented his days. My father had masked it all. 

"There are more Ancients," Merete sighed," although I wouldn advise against persuing them. Each of us have our own battles. Every scale balanced precariously close to tipping point."

But I wasn't listening. After all that information.  And the heartbreaking rendition of my parents final decision together, I clung to the notion that I wasn't alone after all. Using that snippet as sponge to soak up the sorrow dicing through agitated mind. If enough concentration was put elsewhere maybe just maybe the tears that were tame for now, wouldnt errupt and claim all of my being.

There were others. They would understand perhaps even more than her. For Merete was a comfort and fount of knowledge, but her thinking was set in old ways. Set to a mode long outdated. 

Magic changed over time and those who cast it. Instead of laughing off notions that my essence may have become tainted, there may be those who had first hand experience in such matters. 

Despite her obvious objections I would find them. Follow the kerbstones of ancient. Become friendly with my kind. Maybe even impart or aid them.

I'd been living in ignorance up until now, and it was far from bliss.


	2. Information Station

The winds that blew against me were cool. A mixture of embarrassment and anger had turned my skin to a rather unhealthy wash of heat.  

This rendezvous had ended in a rather unsatisfactory manner. Merete, after unloading a tonne of information on me refused to let me help in locating Ancients. It was clear to anyone who knew me that I was on edge. Ragged at the seams a little.  But I was not helpless and hated being slotted into a needy victim category. 

Mz Talma, pulled out her grimoire setting up shop, choosing to act in some form of parental role and do the incantation herself. Recalling the monotone she had taken with me less than thirty minutes ago. 

"There are those who carry the connection of ancient still," Merete said," but they are not of this continent child." 

"How could I locate them? " I asked. Thinking that some spell would be shared. 

She eyed me wearily, lips never moving from the ceramic cup. Weighing up a decision in her head as to whether to share or not. 

"Given the state of things I'm best casting the net." 

She was astute. Then again we seemed aware of each other, through hidden mysteries of thought and sound. An aura, so to speak. My vessel hung weary. Unable to locate her until something unspeakable happened. I'd somehow laid waste to a small village. A weight carried like a dumbbell. Such loss. Every screaming soul. I felt them from beyond etched into my spirit. A sentence which could never be put right, amended.  No amount of good deeds or repentance would change their fate.  My own was fastened to theirs for eternity now. 

All that Merete had really asked of me today was some blood. It should have been a relief, not having to push magical boundaries so soon after the 'incident.' Yet claustrophobia squeezed my body, not resting easy with itself. Trigger fingers itching to scratch.  Idle hands a cornucopia of devils playground.  

Instead I forced myself to sit, waiting expectantly like a novice while the lands opened up to her. She had fallen into some kind of trance state. Fingers moving over invisible boundaries on a map book. Not one I had seen in recent print, which kind of defeated the purpose of getting a more accurate reading. Modern, as even the earth itself shifted with time. Oceans swelling or ebbing away to change the very shape of continents. 

Still she was more than adept in pinpointing one location. Digits skimming through pages in quick succession. Thumbnail jabbing into the coordinates of a town in southern Nerave Republic.

Of course it would have to be purely ironic that they be located in one of the most untraveled trails.  Not many ventured to Nerave unless they had a precise, professional reason to put themselves into a very dangerous, war-torn place. 

Neighbouring countries tried to muscle in on their resources. A land full of oil and natural gas. Virtual treasure trove for the greedy, just ripe for the picking.

But they were met with forceful backlash from the natives. Each and every attempt leading to nothing but body counts on both ends. 

As if that wasn't enough, Nerave had been fighting against a steely oppressor for so long no doubt the people didn't know how to live peacefully. It's possible that even children weilded weapons before they were fully out of diapers. 

Pinching the bridge of my nose sharply, 'keep it together. How can it be any worse than the bitter winter of 54.'

I'd hardly come out of that bleak few months alive. Between almost savage locals, driven insane through low food rations. An inability to get to stores across plummeting climates and snowdrift. Some took to hunting which brought me, and anything that moved into their scope unnecessarily. Desperation could do strange things to even the most laid back of people. 

Still, somehow that hadn't been the last freeze I'd lived to encounter, although it was by far the worse. Clinging onto slivers of life by the barest of threads. Waif would have described it best. Scavenging on no more than rodents and dank ice water.  

An ill advised diet to say the least. Every drop in temperature, shift in snow made my bones ache straight through to the marrow. A chill I'd never felt before or since. 

'Hell if we could survive that, we could survive anything.'

Heaving a deep sigh breathing in lungfuls of fresh air. I savoured the crispness it brought. Inhaling for the first time in what seemed like years. Leaving Meretes hut far in the distance. All of her words were still spinning around my head. Everything stemming from rumoured beginnings. Finally discovering an exact lineage. Whatever an Ancient actually was. All of that information bubbling on the surface.  

One image I clung to, a star shining bright above all else. Was that of togetherness. Some brief glimmer of unity. A knowledge. There was more of us, scales. Other warring vessels not just mine. I wasn't alone. There was something comforting in that, the not being alone, not being a freak. It was  fine that was once unique became commonplace. No more one of a kind. What a huge relief. There was more like me. Only a few compared to the legions of vampires and Weres, small when put beside Sookies faes. But ample enough to make an impression on the world. Weight floated from usually heavy shoulders.  

So like some form of support or help group I only had to reach out. Find them and join the small community. 

Whatever struggles appeared, there were more dealing with similar problems. On other continents.  Merete had hinted at them living deep in the recesses of Europe, Africa even the Solviet states. 

Felt like I'd found a new purpose. If we reached out to each other. Engaged. Maybe our lives would be easier. But it couldn't be done from here, not from this hell hole just on the outskirts of New Orleans. Leaving was paramount, get on the soonest, most available flight and go. There are things I needed to do first, packing, the tidying up of my affairs. To keep things skimming over.

Most of my businesses could be conducted on the move. Many workable online. Whatever couldn't be done through the digital media, Pam would help with. After being persuaded with a shiny trinket or two. A few pieces from F'Delma Cassie's latest collection may even seal the deal. 

Pity there were a few cuts that wanted proper bandaging, plasters of the more emotional kind. Namely things with certain families. Stuff that needed sorting,  before they stagnated to rot. 

I was still on rather tumultuous terms with Rebekah. Even though we had each others back in the situation with her brother, there were still unaired queries hanging around. I don't think she'd see my next dash into the wild blue yonder, as anything more than me just leaving her again. Running away. 

No, this time would be different. I had to see her, to explain why ship was being abandoned for a while. It was the right thing to do. We had been inseparable growing up. A blessing to call her not only my friend, but sister. Closeness I missed greatly. Patching up the tattered seams would take some doing, but I was the elder by almost two years. So it was my place to act as instigator to such a move. 

Even though she had taken to colluding with me against her brother very easily, it would be foolish to assume a being, such as Rebekah would not look for a perk of two. That was the Mikaelson way. If a favour was owed it would be called into motion quite quickly. 

She was shrewd. We had to chat, be on the straight and narrow. Or any excuse I hashed out later would never be forgiven. 

My phone buzzed into life. Seeing the Sherrifs name light up the screen did little to calm my nerves. Taking a deep breath I decided to answer the call. Putting on a light airy manner. 

"Hi Eric. How are you?"

"Ah Alicia you've returned. Where exactly have you been. In no mans land, under a rock.. "he was annoyed, ignoring any nicities and grating out accusation in the form of question.  

Clearly the missing Chevy had been noticed. He was skeptical before even letting me explain my absence in Shreveport. 

"What are you talking about?"

"You've been off the grid for hours. Were you going through a tunnel, no connection, what? "

I stared at the sky in puzzlement, 'off the grid, out of coverage,' what was he on about. 

The whole day spent at Meretes hut. Unless she put up some magical lockdown, so there was no interruptions as we spoke. Smiling off hand, well an old dog can always surprise with these new tricks. She could somehow connect with even technological matters. Warp them to her will. Interesting. 

"We'll I'm here now Eric. What gives? "

He gritted, "what gives, you say so casually.  When were you going to tell me there's a wolf in town?"

Damn it, of course he had found out about Ansel. How could he not. Ears and eyes were everywhere. On the ground, skies, sea. His sources were plentiful. Who could I trust? The Sheriffs reach was far. Probably had eyes on me right now. Shrugging off the insane thought to look around me and make sure.

'A wolf you brought to town,' words he wanted to say, yet held onto. I knew him well enough after a few decades to tell when he bit back, keeping bigger vileness to himself. Letting the unspoken accusation slide I answered him. 

"Ok, so what? There's a new werewolf around, it's all under control right?"

"He's of  certain pack is he not?"

"Eh, I don't know what you mean Eric," I lied rather unsuccessfully.

Hearing his jaw clicking down the line. Followed by a sound similar to someone grating the phone with fingernails. Scratching across receiver. 

"Alicia I can smell when a new pack member has entered the vicinity. And as Sheriff you should have really told me. I need to keep track of the population count. Never mind strenuous background checks we need to conduct.."

Seriously, he was going to pull buerocratic nonsense with me right now. Politics never interested him over little things like these. Was he using status to serve his own miscontent? Personal hatred over a species, that I'd witnessed for far too long. Why should all suffer, for the few actually responsible for wronging him. Did he even bother keeping score of other species that tore at him. Vampires weren't renound for loyalty and cool,  even tempers. 

"Eric, don't be so padantic. He's only a wolf and an old one at that, whose pack is from land in your jurisdiction no less. I really don't see a problem, unless you're going to make it one."

"Really," the Viking stalled, "and the dust he's kicking up from Meadonforth Park, is mere coincidence?"

This got me agitated. Put me on the ledge immediately. This thousand year old vampire. If he could smell the destruction clinging to Ansel, his skin, to the very fibers of his clothes. Others could too. Was he safe enough with Alcide and Jackson? I'd placed him with the Hearveauxs in the hope that he'd be fine. 

No one seemed to bother them. They were outcasts. One because he wanted to be, and the other because he'd been forced out of his own pack. Disgraced as gambling and vices took full hold. He'd become hooked on V and his whole family suffered. Hardly the kind of person I should have really left Ansel with. But he had his own character so theirs wouldn't tarnish his in any great way. 

"Eric," I warned. Not wanting to delve into too much over the phone. "Meadonforth is on me. Leave him be. He did nothing, he was... We... were the sole survivor's of that catastrophe."

The Norseman sighed. Sound long and heavy. This was the way lectures started. When something I'd done seemed stupid. Giving a second to formulate how harsh to be. 

"Listen.." he tried to explain things to me. 

"Not like this. Phones aren't secure, you know that." I cut, hoping to avoid the more political side to Eric, " can you do anything about the... "

"Scent? It's already dealt with," acknowledging my anxiety about further investigation being lead Alcides way, "Where are you?"

It was a simple request my location. That answer. Not so much. After the clear admission that Eric had, in fact done me a great service by burying Ansels trail, it felt like a betrayal on my part, being so far out of town. Closer to a place he loathed, than the bosom of Fangtasia. 

"Out of town," I replied.

That kept things neutral. Could be anywhere. Anywhere on the planet. But from my tone he instinctively knew. 

"Are you, in fucking New Orleans."

The pace of his accusation eerily slow. Deliberate.

'Careful now, ' I reminded myself. Match had been struck, implosion imminent. 

"No," well at least that part was true.

My Chevy wasn't even facing that direction, far from it. I had seen Merete and wished to skip hell for more friendly pastures. At least for now. Could always organise things with Rebekah later. 

"I'll be honest with you. I've been talking to Merete and it seems like there is more of my kind out there. She gave me a location to check out," taking a deep breath, "But this pack master needs to stay hidden."

"Are you suggesting that I should stash a mongrel? Did I fall on my head, and begin running a kennel service? " stabbing out like an irate child.  

Rolling my eyes wearily, "You would if you knew who he was."

"That's idiotic of you Alicia. What makes you think I don't already know who he is. My query rather, is to how he's alive and kicking. In a crappy trailer with two of your friends."

"I'm as surprised as you," confessing, while trying to push memories into their pit. 

Recalling all the panic. Running around to find any form of life only to be confronted by those steel eyes. Shock clear in his demeanor. Ansel didn't expect to be standing in the cool light of day either. He was as much in the dark as me.

It was highly unlikely that the wolf had been hiding out there. Seeing as his last living meeting had been with Niklaus. An encounter that left him rather impaled. Stabbed quite literally through the heart. As Mikael had done centuries before. 

"You need to keep him a secret. Tucked away and covered. Kinda like I did for you with Sookie. So just do me a favour and turn the other cheek on this one."

"So pretend like he's not here?"

"Yes Eric, You could do that. Or maybe I might give Alcide a ring, tell him your taking over host duties with his new houseguest," he gave a terse sigh, making me smile, "it's up to you. Whatever you choose. I know you love annoying the Mikaelsons? This is one rather spectacular curve ball. That will disturb a certain hybrid..... So until you are ready to use such an advantage, best keep that hand hidden."

"Ah, I'm thinking leverage can be gained with our nameless Mikaelson," he chuckled. 

Instantly regretting the fact that mentioning Ansel had given the Viking very big ideas. For a man who wasn't particularly fond of wolves, he sure seemed happy with his latest acquisition. 

"Eric don't be an idiot, and for God sake don't do anything stupid."

"Shall I put him in a holding cell with the rest of my vast treasures?"

Again with the smug teasing over his stash of annoyingly dangerous artefacts. Ones he still hadn't let me see, despite promising just that. I swear he was pushing his luck. 

"Just leave him with the Hearveauxs. He has no reason to leave or head towards New Orleans.."

"Maybe some of his better attributes will rub off on you," he interjected, although the snipe flowed over me as I continued along my own train of thought.  

We weren't doing this, not again.

"He's learnt his lesson the hard way. Leave Ansel where he is, with his kind. Let them do what they do. Ignore Weres, concentrate on Fangtasia."

Sensing that he wasn't going to get anywhere with bating me anymore,  Eric swiftly changed tactic. 

Worry tinging his voice, "as I was leaving tonight, Andy Belfleurs car was heading towards the Stackhouse residence."

"Of course they'll be looking for her. It's a missing person afterall. And he is the Sheriff, don't worry about it too much," I said simply. He was fishing for clues as to where his beloved barmaid was. 

"I'm aware but..."

"Where theres no smoke don't start a bloody fire Eric. Keep well away from Belfleurs investigation okay," I wrung my hands tightly around metal key chain. Feeling the steal pinch sharply into my palm. This was ridiculous, I knew he had great feelings for the woman but our Viking vampire was beginning to sound like a lovesick teenager," Sookies safe. Try not to concern yourself with faes or wolves. Don't draw attention to yourself, or us for that matter. You'll put Pam at risk too. Wait it out. Keep those pointed ears to the ground. It's uncertain how long her family will shelter her. She may even get tired of being a recluse hidden away. Who knows how long her own kind will keep her occupied danger wise. Sookie has a thing for vampires after all."

"So it seems. As long as her taste improves I have no problem with that," he chuckled, halting my rant.

A lightness exiting our previous stuffy conversation. That was it, even Mr Northman despite all his flaws was still human on certain fronts.  He just needed a pep talk. 

"Eric. Don't loose focus here."

"Sharp like a fox," he joked.

"Cunning, more like,"countering his observation, still at least he could be lighthearted now.

There were no more niggling grievances left to be hashed out for the moment. 

"Hlín is with you. Be careful lillasyster." 

"As always. I'll swing by when I've hit home turf," quickened pulse worked it's way through my body.

Be careful? Understatement of the year. And he only ever used that pet name when he was worried. A way of expressing himself without long drawn out explanation. It pained me to cause him even hints of stress. The council did enough to grate on his usually boyish demeanor. Sucking most of the fun out of him, Eric always returned snappy and irritable. 

His blessing soothed me mildly, guardians, helpful entities. They were in short supply. Eric's words, even if they were over his Norse gods were a comfort.  Any small thing could help. Of this I was sure.

Reaching my trusty car I got in properly. No longer drawn to stand talking. Doing what I'd done countless times before. Kicking off those deep and heavy boots. 

Throwing their saturated wetness onto the passenger side floor. It wasn't advisable to drive around in stockinged feet but these were thick and fleecy. Should give ample grip. Now it was time to head. 

Back towards my lovely little house and get things sorted. Nerave was way off the beaten track. Travel itenary had yet to be worked out. Contacts made who were willing to get me around a foreign land, especially since new faces spelt trouble. Mine would be no different. It was times like these I was grateful that there were unscrupulous characters whose aligence could be bought. Packing should be sparse enough for such a journey. Just in case a swift retreat became necessary. 

Too much to organise. Mind swimming already. This was a distraction of my own doing, as good an excuse as any to get out of Louisiana for a while. No one could accuse me of hiding, not when there was a valid excuse for such absence. 

Shaking my head in irritation, why did it bother me? Caring what anyone else thought. Conscience as usual storming the fort. Lead by example. The correct thing was oftentimes the hardest. It was a curse to be constantly worrying over trivial matters. Bloody life hadn't gotten any easier in centuries, karma was a stickler for her crazy kicks. 

Darkening sky pulled me out of dwelling any further. A long drive was one thing, the same journey made in bad weather even trickier. Setting off now would cut down time spent on slippery roads. Heavy clouds loomed in the distance. 

Ashen reflection stared back at me through the rear view mirror. My imagination kicked into overdrive. It was just an incoming shower, nothing more. Darting away from the unease in my own sunken orbs. 

Switching on the radio as engine spluttered into life. Music, that always made things less gloomy. 

'This was no manifestation. Only nature.'  

Even the voice of the reassurance seemed to waver. Noticing the spedomiter steadily increase, trees blurred by. Flooring the accelerator, locking my jaw. Attempting to ignore the dip in temperature. No. This wasn't happening. Pressure wasn't changing to suit my mood. That took effort and I wasn't even trying. 

A flicker of grey bounded into the road. 

"Bloody hell!!"

Cursing wildly. Traction slipped clumsily. It was too late to brake. What the heck was that? Only one option left, gripping the steering tightly, pulling in towards the hard shoulder. Heart in my throat. Fifty, fifty chance the vehicle was going to land up in a ditch and hit the animal anyway. 

I felt the Chevy craning, struggling to keep in line. What little road users there were, already honking at the sudden manover. Panicked my hands worked in tandem, not needing full brain function to keep up the battle of trying to right us out. It was instinctive. 

Twisting the car anxiously. Breaking inches from a muddy embankment. Breathing heavy. I scanned the surroundings in relieved fashion.  

What the hell had that been? 

Fluffy ears scurried into bushes on the other side of the road. Hysterical laughter almost claiming my sanity. You had to be kidding me. 

All of that to avoid a hare who'd darted out onto tarmac. Figures.  Turning my keys abruptly, the engine chugged. Failing to engage. Clicking the chain again and again. The Chevy spluttered. At this rate I'd flood the engine, God only knows what damage was done already. 

Stuck here in no mans land. And trust there to be no civil person willing to stop and offer aid.  Enough had seen the irratic driving, yet no one seemed to care. 

"Perfect, just perfect! "I swore hitting the wheel with a clenched right fist.

Then I knew for sure something was about to kick off. A spark of lighting danced in the sky. It was no mere atmospheric twist. This was me. 

I was doing it without full conscious knowledge. 

'Not now,' Trying to calm down, inhaling raggedly,' Please, not now. '

'Oh loosing the reigns are we.' Came the voice deep within my head.

'What a shame.'

'Mind you, you ignored the warnings. You knew what working too hard would do.'

'What working with them would do.'

'What delving too deep would bring. '

"Stop it?! Just stop it!!"I shouted. Trying to silence the sing song chorus taunting me. Everyone driving past would think I was insane. 

Yelling at no one in the small chassis of this stranded car.

Holding my head in both hands. It had started to turn into a quite sudden blinding headache.

Out of nowhere. Everything descended into grey. A thick smog. I could feel it, insidious working it's way through my mouth, nose, ears, lungs. So much it was suffocating. What was happening what was going on? Powerless to stop it, completely powerless. 

***

I tried without great success to convince myself that I wasn't here. How had I been sucked back to this place? I'd been in my Chevy, which was now replaced by a familiar sight. It was sickening.  On the verge of vomit. Sinking down, being pulled into something, a place I didn't want to go. 

"Ah Alicia. Quite a dull abode by any standards."

Swinging around I faced her, Freya mikaelson. 

"What do you want?" spat her direction. Ice coating my words." You can't be here." 

Stating something ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. She laughed, her light inflection trinkling around echoing walls of my hut. 

"What, in your home? A place where you grew up.  Somewhere safe,  where you were loved. What makes you think I can't be here? Were you not many times in my house. With my family.  Sharing a meal around fire pit." 

"You were'nt there Freya. You were with..." Of course I knew it hadn't been her choice to be taken away from her kin, but I was ever weary of what this Mikaelson witch would perceive as vengeance next. She despised me, that much was evident. 

"Yes with my dear aunt Dahlia. No one fighting for me. Loving me, or caring. You slipped quite happily into my place. In that household." 

Glaring at her unwavering, "it was never my intention to take anyone's sted. I Never even tried."

She chuckled," you didn't have to. Poor little Alicia. All on her own, no siblings to play with. No one to look up to, or look after. To talk to. Your father, a man so engrossed in his work. Too blind to notice his daughter out converting with the enemy. An enemy that would ruin them both."

I'd beaten myself up enough times, with the realization that they may have just pitied me. So her words stung only for moments. If I had gained family life, even for a moment through something as hopeless as pity, so what.

"You don't know anything of my father and have No reason to be in his house," my reasoning drawing an incredulous look. 

For a moment I thought I saw a glint of sadness in her stony blue eyes. But with a flick of blonde hair that too was gone. Replaced by the same indifferent look Rebekah had when something bored her. 

"Well I found this rather interesting memory. Though I might visit it."

I lunged at her, which was a pointless endeavor to say the least. Seeing as she spirited out of my grasp repeatedly. This witch would have found something buried. Buying time to figure out what it could be, that way I could put up some wall to disarm her. 

"You will not bring me into any dreams. You won't rehash old wounds Freya. This is still my head, my palace, " the threat rolled out before I could catch it. 

"Uh well how dramatic. No I just wished for you to stand here to look around," I startled. So this was the scene she wanted me to view. "Survey your home. Where you spent so many hours seeing but not seeing, what was clearly under your nose. Why don't we have a look now together?"

This was not an important memory. Merely a snapshot of the home I grew up in. It served a purpose to remind me of my roots, happier times. No more. Yet Freya chose this above all others to bring to my attention. 

Watching the blond woman stroll around the small space. Picking up herbs idly. Killing time. 

"Are you going to tell me what's so special about this?"

Shaking my head sighing, when all she did was shrug in response. Moving her inspection to another shelf.  Freya wasn't about to make things easy, that's for damn sure. 

Rubbing my temples in weary annoyance, she was up to something. I just knew it. Following the path the Mikaelson witch took. Her moves were practiced, almost deliberate. 

Hinting at... Wait! Is that a grimoire? Just under a make shift shelving unit. Stacked wood, one could hardly call shelving but it housed loads of bottles, jars and containers. 

My father hardly kept a grimoire. He wasn't a proper witch. But a healing man. He had always claimed magic came from my mother. Yet here was a book of spells. Could it possibly have been hers? A thing that he held onto as he took on that persona to keep us safe. Merete had said he was a Shaman, and in my experience they kept no such journals. 

Clogs ticking away. Where was such a book now? After my fathers death I was understandably rocked. How had I managed to have enough sence to collect what I could of his scattered ashes, but not try reclaiming belongings from our home. 

Afraid that this would be the last image of the grimoire, staring at it hard enough to scorch it onto my mind for life. Freya hovered so close. Enjoying my momentary weakness. Pointing at it with her mocking face. 

"You never once asked what these were? What an obedient little daughter to have. Responsible to a fault."

Twisting my head sharply I saw what she was now eluding to. 

Hex bags that adorned the walls. Yet I didn't know their mysterious qualities till I grew much older. 

"Yes they're hex bags," snapping at the woman,"to curse people, or spy on them...."

"Ah but these," she smirked,  flicking the fabric corner of one, "are to keep something out, something strong was prevented from entering this house."

It was rare to use them for protection. But still if the contents were potent enough, Freya was correct they could be able to ward off enemies. 

"And these, "she continued fingertips brushing ever so lightly as wind would pass, hovering over what appeared to be a rather crude dream catcher. "You know whst this is, you've seen him use it."

An explosion of pain suddenly darted through my head. Poker like. 

"just what in the world do you think you're doing?!" the voice yelled.  

Although I was blinded with excruciating spindles through my skull, there was no  mistaking Dahlias harsh tone. 

"Times up," Freya's voice came from my left.

Sound, a masked whisper before I was shoved.  Expelled with force. Hands punching with urgency. Gasping in shock, thrown forward through senseless time. Kicked out of my own head. 

 


	3. Unchained Magic

'Oh hell, how did I get here,' I winced.

Moments ago had I not been sat at the edge of a motorway. Exhausted from ringing local car companies, trying to find one willing to rescue me at this hour.

When there had been a virtually empty road I had gotten it out of the dip it had been wedged in. Pulling it up with relative ease. One less job for them. All that was needed now was a tow. Something had bust under the engine. A fix up task I couldn't even start to do myself. Not that I had to worry about it now, given the fact that it had probably been left there. Abandoned, awaiting the local authorities interjection. For they were certain to stick their noses in. Was always the case in vehicular misendeavours. 

Goddamnit, what insanity had brought me here. It wasn't more witches, I hadn't been jumped this time. 

A fleeting notion of blackout prodded me. There was only one explanation as to how I couldn't recall most recent movements. Distracted emotions of the last couple of days flaring up.

Spent too much in my head, than paying attention to what was happening out here. Walking right into a storm, how fitting. 

Choppy winds fracturing into a rushed nightmare. Heart beating furiously. Almost too large for my chest. The intensity so much it hurt. Every pulse, each thump alive with uncertainty.

I was shivering. Fearful.

Upheaved dirt and debris practically obliterating the sun. Skies alive with earth. 

And the heat. Excruciating, melt the flesh from your body, heat. Coals emanating from each bone. All alight and burning.

Even my eyes were blurred. Dry from the phantom fire that gripped me.

This was the orchard. Not far from the Bayou. Even though I couldn't make out with certainty the landmarks. I just knew. Déjà vu. The very ground speaking to me. You've entered New Orleans. 

Not far from where the trio of witches met their death. Current home of the original family.

My car, I should be there. Acting like a stubbornly willful child. How was it possible to get from there to here. Without becoming road kill. Spacing out completely.

Hours must have passed. Day shifting towards cloak of night. Had I abandoned the Chevy, walked here?  

There goes any thoughts of rescue or even kindness. The pick up man sounded gruff enough, that was before I had stood him up. Swerving back to my first conclusion. yes,  he would have definitely rang the police,  got them involved.  Thank heaven I hadn't actually hit anything. May be looked at as something minor. A slap on the wrist.

My body felt strange, detached. Aware that magic was leaking out, much worse than before. Pent up, warped. It took unrecognizable shapes. 

Gripping my forehead tight in an attempt to gain control. Halt momentum of what was fast becoming an event that would level the very earth on which I stood.

"Please stop!" I cried, no holding back. For all the good it did. Godforsaken tears of desperation. Praying that someone would answer. Debating whether it was a higher power or Mother nature that I pleaded with.

What the hell had brought me back here, and for this. 

Just to tear body apart. Some morbid carcass fit to be diced and torn. Laid as an offering on soil that had already demanded so much. 

Would it be satisfied with the blood shed today? Maybe if the very blades of grass became coated in waved essence of my draining life, the debt would be paid.

For of this I am certain the devil himself demanded his dues.

Grey clouds of whirlwind, whipped themselves into a mini tornado around me. Sparks of lightening reaching out from the mashing as debris clashed together. 

Throat dry, parched beyond belief. 

How long had it been since I'd last drank. Vaguely remembering a sour orange juice, in lukewarm tumbler some 24hours ago. 

No, Merete had set me a tea in between. Confusion. Or maybe it was longer, time had escaped me. Last checked, daylight greeted flaura and fauna alike. A dawning day. I'd been waiting for a tow truck, had I not. 

Bunking out to come to terms with what Freya had shown me. 

Now it was all but the onyx of night. One fast descending to oblivion.

Scenes from MedonforthPark haunted me. All those people. Their faces, those dull eyes, gaping mouths. As if their very force had been sucked from their open jaws. Sypheled to aid some much bigger being. Twisted in horror. Bodies frozen in warped ways, falling where they stood. Life itself flew out the window in mere seconds. 

A whole town, in one fell swoop. God even the young, even the babi....

"Enough!!" I scolded myself out loud. Startling, even though it was my own voice," get a grip, that isn't helping." 

Yet the stark reality was, that it was me, I had done that. Without concious knowledge, wiped out an entire town. Age and innocence not seeming to matter. All were chosen. Taken to heavens swinging doors. Their innocence on my record. A tally that would never be erased. 

"Alicia!" a muffled sound whisked through the frenzy, hitting harsh.

Heart quake hiccuping between its racing pace. Not him. Not the hybrid. 

Barely making him out. Silhouetted against moonlight. A hand cast up by his face, straining to see through this chaotic mess. Creating a cup of clarity, to fend off dust. It was a fog of flying matter that kept me obscured from proper view. 

"Go away," I yelled in responce. He needed to leave, I couldn't control this. More pertinent, my mind had to find a way to exit this city and fast. Sure running was an option, but this body seemed rooted to the spot. Trapped in this storm of its own design.

If limbs finally did as they were bid, would the turmoil cease. This weather front I'd somehow conjoured from vast nothingness.

"Afraid I can't do that love," he drawled, the tone steady, despite the panic that came from my earlier statement,"you're creating a bit of a scene."

The phrase almost made my chuckle. You bet I was. This weather defect must be like a giant beacon. Surprised more people hadn't gathered to gawp. Question the sight, an eerie twister in their quiet suburb.

Maybe they believed the recent hurricane had finally hit their shores. Hurricane Walley the media called it, thankful that it may have masked this magical outburst.

Fizzles of ice hit me, stones began to dash against skin.  

"Damn-it," my sharp intake laced with pain. That bloody hurt. Earthen rocks clamouring tighter in their perilous journey. Pulling my limbs in to protect myself in some childish attempt of security,"please, Niklaus just leave."

Maybe if I succumbed, curled into a fetal ball, it would vanish. I couldn't concentrate enough to control what was unfolding. Scaled up from usual drama. An unclimbable mountain. 

"To what do we owe this pleasure?" he stalled, casting his eyes around the fast moving winds. Calculating some sort of move.The particles plentiful. Branches, stones, things long buried hurtling every which way at once. Sure I glimpsed a headstone or two rushing past," some unfinished business perhaps?"

Nervous tension diced up my back. Sending a few trickles of sweat running down spine. I wasn't thankful to know I had company in this predicament. Claps of thunder rumbling overhead. Flashes of orange and red slicing through skyline. Highlighting the dusty tornado surrounding me. If this wasn't hell on earth, it was pretty damn close.

Closing eyelids tight, scrunching them shut, trying to grab anything from my hut called a memory palace. Something of peace, to aide. But it was dark, dank as if the lights had been turned off. Even here things crept from secluded shadows. Scuttling with beetle ridged claws along hardwood floors. 

Echoey in a surreal way. It was crumbling. Brickwork cracked, allowing chills through gaping chasms.

Brain alive with iron pokers jabbing into it. Branding a stamp of certainty. There was no calm to be found here. 

Chest heaving with fearful panting. Air, even breath was too rank. Coated with smokey soil and flames. Lungs complaining sickengly. Roasting from the inside outward. I was slow cooking in this furnace. 

Ping, stick a fork in her she's done!

Throwing open my eyes just in time to witness the hybrid yank at the collar of his soft leather coat.

Hitching it up to shield his face, angling that original body to intercept flying particles. Zipping through with speed and precision. Ignoring bangs of clutter as it hit against him. Some orbiting much too fast even for him. 

May as well have just been hail, stoning against skinny frame as he passed through. Jaw tense, orbs flashing that brilliant shade of amber.

Distracted momentarily by his closeness. I lost further leash on the whirlwind. It began plucking at the ground beneath our feet. 

Sending clots of soil towards waiting nostrils. Twisting to avoid inhaling such filth. Almost eating my hair in the process. Curls free falling, slaves to their surroundings.

"You are full of mysteries, aren't you?"Niklaus murmered, glancing upwards, his eyes back to that glimmering blue.

Staring at the almost pinprick sky above us. Following his gaze I saw the handful of solitary stars breaking through this hellish weather. Shining almost determinedly in violet/black night.

"Go now," I whispered, feeling my own breath bounce off his flesh back towards me. Sending a tingle through ribcage. He was much too close. All that he was, each scent and presence invading non-exhistant space between us. My statement forcing his attention to be honed in. Coaxing my eyes to hold his," get Hope, everyone you can and..... just head out...as fast as possible..."

Whatever happened previously I had been unconscious for. The full scale of how things played out unknown to me. But this place, New Orleans would not become a wasteland. 

Confusion misted across his features, before he became resolute once more. Readying myself for what I knew would be a stubborn response."I'm not going anywhere."

My breath hitched, why did he have to do this now. Could he not take my word for once. Heed advice and do as asked. It was unnerving and comforting. Conflicting things further. 

Not that it would take much, given the current muddle overwhelming my bodies sences.

"I can't control this," agony edging through as panic filled me once more," Niklaus, you need to clear the area, get them out before I.... before I, level the place."

Eyeing me in disbelief, one curt shake of his head," you won't do that, its not..."

"Medonforth," cutting into the sentence quickly," is was me."

There was a flicker that dashed across irises at the mere mention of Meadonforth Park. Bad news traveled fast. Its scope far reaching. I had been on the cursed land. Saw first hand what had happened. Was responsible for it. Such a blemish in history. A black passage orchestrated by my own hands. 

Knowing it would be spoken of long after all trace of warring body has been removed from the planet. Miger compared to other nightmares, but still present.

His mouth drew into a thin line," impossible."

Tears welled up. Feeling the stinging heat. Not really caring at this point that they trickled once more down my cheeks. Rivers of moisture drying on contact with lava like skin.

"Stupid witches," I cracked, wringing my hands together," they tried to channel me. Took out..." knowing I needed to finished the tale. Keep it short and concise. But the reality was too awful for words. Airing them bringing it all back. Almost tasting death on the air. Yet for some unknown reason, I had to enter that pulpit. Spill out the vile deed. " Everything was gone," swallowing hard, he continued the silent surveylance, tilting his chin difiantly, "I mean everything. Not a single survivor, Niklaus. Just me.... So much.....blood on my hands."

Blue orbs skimmed mine, searching for something. Clarity, better understanding, lord knows what. Too busy hoping he didn't sense deciept in my confession. Ansel must remain a ghost. 

Breeze tousled his hair. Layering dust amoung brown waves. Watching pebbles bound off his flesh and clothing. The original never once flinching, although the odd dash of gold would whisper through his eyes. Keeping his temper honed in. 

Cut me a slice of that cake, I thought miserably, whatever helped him keep composure. Even a sliver would suffice for now, help me reign in the surging power leaking out of this warring vessel. 

Godric would frown if he saw things now. He was one for restraint. Vampires dominated primal things like emotions. Never succumbing to them, no matter how dire.

"It wasnt you.."

"All of it, everything was me, how can you not see that?" I spat back bitterly, attempting to close myself off. 

Pushing at his now slick leather coat. It had began to sweat. Hot creating steam like droplets on the impenetrable fabric. The information shared should have sent him running for the hills. Rushing to save his beloved city, kin, his littelest wolf. 

If he wouldn't move. Retrace the steps to the compound he had to be forced on his way.

Shoving my hands aside, he grasped me. Palms engulfing my face. The hold firm. 

Muscle tensing in his jaw before he spoke,"we have grown side by side. A millennia has not changed character. This is not you Alicia. You would never do what you speak of."

Holding his hands in mine I tightened the grip on them. Only in an attempt to rip them from me.  'Quit being stubborn, do as you're told,' mind eating away.

"Stop it!" I warned, prising fingers between his flesh and my face, looking to remove this continued hold, it was too personal. The less we connected the better. His recent behaviour couldn't be excused. My heart wouldn't permit it, "don't just see. Look properly. What really stands before you?"

'Monster', word rolling around my skull.

Tauntingly. No one could lie. Feign blindness, for that is what I had become. Freya stripping something more than magic, maybe she'd taken balance. Tipped the scales that nature demanded. Took that suriety as revenge.

Bristles of magma got deeper in their swirls. Gritting my teeth furiously together to stop any scream exiting my lips. The hybrid recoiled slightly. Brow furrowed questioningly. My hands had began to spasm. Clenching shut, veins and tendons seared by fire. Forcing the body to begin shutting in on itself.

Bang there goes my next theory. Hopes of tearing myself literally from the anchor this land had on me. Although it refused to let go,  if I fought hard enough, surely a break could be made. And I could take this abomination of a storm with me. 

Nature or some unspeakable force willed me to remain here. Bucking back as I tried to extricate from the orchard. A strength as sure as my own kicked hard. 

Sencing building turmoil.  Attempting to reach out for me once more, the original cursed. A rare thing. My skin was too molten to touch. Smelling burnt flesh as his finger tips crackled on my forearm. Swiftly removing it, inspecting the digits that smouldered. Trinkles of smoke being sucked up into the continuing whiptide.

Pain crippled me, falling with a grunt to the soil nest. For that is what was left of the earth on which I stood. A mishmash of roots and loosened clay.

Coughing up blood, its crimsomness reacting like acid to the blades of grass it touched.  Whip of ball-like magic shot forth airborne. Vaccumed up into the never ending spiral. My stomach was churning. Brimming with fire, as if I had eaten a dragon and it wished to burst out and free itself. 

A swish of air crossed between my shoulder blades. Finding myself cloaked by soft folds of fabric. Whisps of aftershave eminating from its lining. A lingering coolness from the fiber's, where they had covered his body. 

The hybrids leather coat, acting as gloves against flesh. Protecting him from its continued burning.

Firmly pulled to my feet, which caused more twisted agony. Knees, ankles, toes all wound up tightly. Each nerve ending cruncked on high alert. Sending pain signals  galore to every possible receptor. Standing was barely a valid option. Muscles were shot, overworked, forcing impending shutdown. Even bone marrow seemed aflame. 

Niklaus braced my weight against him. The smell of wolf smothering in inhaled layers. Vaguely aware that his nose rested in tangled curls. Bristles and lips catching the waves as he soothed.

"This is not the same girl who trudged through rushes, carrying that badly woven basket. Demanding she be taught how to bare arms," there was a lightness to his tone. Was the mighty hybrid actually trying to comfort me? 

My exhale, one of semi laughter. Trust him to bring that up once more. Over a thousand years and he still remembered. The skills of straw and basketry made for a more patient mind than mine. Certainly if Rebekah knew how to weild a sword, I too needed to learn. We had adventures to face. Lands to conquer. She should be safe knowing one worthy battled at her side should the occasion dictate. A need to have each others back.

Toes began to unfurl themselves. Fighting against the pulsating heat. Silken words continued on. One beast to soothe another. If such a thing was possible.

"Laughing in the face of such folly. Emotional tempers. How often did you council me against loosing ones head," focusing on nothing more than his words.  

It was true, Niklaus always had a short fuse. No more so than when he was mortal. My chastising, seeming to sink in more that Elijah's. He found a sort of humour in it, maybe the way I chose to stand up to him. Challenge the foray, instead of stomping it out, or reasoning the problem away. My approach was different. It hadn't been intentional of course, but worked on more than one occasion.

Hearing faint thumps, sounds of objects dropping from the sky. Cushioned by disturbed earth. The whirlwind slowly dying down. Although fire still claimed my being.

His tone barely above a whisper now," nothing can quite convince me of such monstrousness, Alicia. Atrocities are not your nature." 

Orbs piercing mine. Swirls of blue deep, intense and honest. Surprising me. Surely he didn't believe my hands to be any less red than his own. I was not the puritan person he spoke of. 

But how I wished to be. In the past few centuries becoming every bit a creature of nightmares. Such tales to fill pages of those dasterdly Penny Dreadfuls.

"Why don't you leave them to me, love? We both know I'm more equipped for savagery."

Blinking in confusion. Gut became a mass of twisted knots. Pain, everything was easing up. Washing out to sea. How was it that one of the most savage immortals seemed able to reason with me? Tame the untameable. 

"Nik!" Rebekah's voice sounded," I'll take it from here. You're not exactly on any Christmas card lists at the moment."

Snapped out of the bubble of calm he'd been building, his sisters voice brought reality crashing in on us both. The thing with Eric and the Viking blade. Of course,  we were on bad terms. Fictional stealing aside, the hybrid had been heartless in his behaviour in Shreveport. Finding Sookie,  quizzing her,  then approaching me when that particular endeavour yielded nothing. I'd been forced to wipe her from his bloody mind. Make up some other tale to go with his trip to my home. 

"Send you to do his bidding," he accused observing my now unsteady gaze.

The swift conversation change angled in from left field. No more quiet, gentle coaxing. He assumed I was Eric's retrieval expert. After all I knew the Mikaelsons as kin once, therefore able to use commonly known weaknesses to my advantage. Thus getting his property back quicker than if he went in blind. Seeing as they could have stashed it away in one of millions of places. Let Niklaus believe what he wanted. 

Too embarrassed to look at the man now. Hating the fact he had seen my vulnerable side. Such weakness could be used as leverage of sorts. 

Following his sisters train of thought. Niklaus seemed fairly confident he had a tangeable reason as to why I was here.

Now that the whirlwind of storm Alicia had died down, there was no more need for Mr nice guy.

He hadn't left the close proximity of surveillance. And I could feel the intense blue orbs of one very intuitive Miss Mikaelson on us. 

Suspicion growing over just how 'personal' our relationship was, ripe in her eternally young face. Startled by her intrique. I needn't give her cause to think we were on separate pages reguarding him. Stepping back sharply from the hybrid, careful that footfalls remained on sturdier ground than the missmass circle surrounding our combined forms. 

His eyes crinkled slightly at the obvious unease I radiated upon her finding us like this. He wasn't to know exactly how devious we had been towards him. The paint hardly dry on our plotting while getting him out of Shreveport. Although riptides of sparked magic still reigned supreme, at least my body got primed for something else. An interrogation. The man thought I came here to persue a viking blade. Nothing could be further from the truth. But in this state I may just blurt out the lunacy of his rationalisation. 

'Thread carefully and with extreme caution,' that never ending voice in my brain sounded. As if a chorus of support was needed to cement such notions into action. 

'Got it covered,' I argued back, quieting the inner audience. 

Dahlia, Freya, and my own little nagging tone seemed to be on the same page for once. A united force against the one and only Niklaus Mikaelson.

"I'm nobody's puppet, don't take orders very well." 

'If at all,' someone voiced, amusing me. Sounded like one essence was winning out over the others. For now.

He smirked," still, maybe you owed him a favour."

Rebekah rolled her eyes. linking an arm through mine," Enough. Is this how family welcomes one another.." 

Making sure she didn't come into contact with my skin I stiffened. Pulling hands up until they were hidden in sleeves of leather coat. Her eyes took in the ensemble quickly. Why was I wearing his jacket. I knew the look of enquiry, but ignored it. 

"Oh Niklaus has enough family," I grated.

Noting his curt nod of agreement. Made from a place of indifference. But the cut opened nonetheless. 

"Hear, hear couldn't have said it better myself."

She snorted lightly," please who are you kidding. We're all united in this bloody never ending torment of a world. She's never been our enemy, in past life or this one. Kin is kin, always." 

Niklaus flicked an eyebrow, pursing his lips, before hazarding a single gesture. A shrug that went all the way down to wavering, outstretched hand. Tilting the scales held in his palm, in quick swaying motion. 

A universal sign of,' hey I'm still on the fence with this one.'

Dismissing him with an irritated tutt, Rebekah turned her face towards me," is everything alright, that storm was a mile high? Did he do something typically diabolical?"

Orbs narrowing as the accusation turned to her hybrid half brother. Who merely cocked his head lazily over a shoulder to register his disgust at the question. He began to amble away, giving some form of space for his sister and I to converse. 

Taking in the form of the man walking three paces in front of us, before answering," just peachy Bekka, sometimes one needs to blow off some steam."

She laughed lightly, although the tightened grip on my elbow told a different story. Reverting back to our secret code from childhood," ain't that the truth simply. " 

It was a play on words, didn't make much sence, but in our youth the signals were easy. Mere eyecontact and that nonsensical phrase ment in layman's terms, we were putting on a show. Saving some 'simple truth' or secret until all prying ears vacated the area. 

Grateful to lean into the support of her arm linked through mine. Body almost buckeld in exhaustion. This was an impossible situation. 

Demand for my presence came from opposing angles. Rebekah.... Eric. Why was there there's no neutral middle ground. 

"You seem off sorts sister," she observed, worry skirting over her brow, "its not contagious I hope? "

Niklaus snickered from ahead of us," nice to know you've, your priories straight."

"Didn't ask for your advice Nik," she snipped, turning to face me once more, " like his top choices are anything to go by." I joined in her light chuckle, " but seriously thought, is everything alright? "

Catching the subtly angled jaw of hybrid out for the corner of my scope. Pushing aside notions of him actually showing any more concern for my well being than absolutely necessary. His was just bored intrique. Unlike his young sibling, whose voice had an edge to it. The steely Mikaelson girl I knew never faltered,  yet tell tales of just that entered unannounced. 

I put Rebakahs concern at ease," it's nothing. Just pushing this magic thing too much. One spell to many, takes its toll."

Smile easing across her face she seemed satisfied by that explanation," well then we shall have to do something fun instead. Relax. All work, as they say... "

I nodded, latching onto her intent. A catch up under guise of 'girls night'. Just what the doctor always forgot to prescribe. Wondering what weighed heavy on my sister. Hoping there was a fixable solution that could be found working together. 

Falling into quiet strolling we made our way towards the compound.  

Overly aware, that even though he was making greatly exaggerated manovers to appear unphased, disinterested. Her hybrid brother was sponge to all we aired. Piecing together some story in his lizard brain. Niklaus could have easily left at any moment but chose to stay. A sort of chaperone, as if we desired it. 

No worthwhile conversations could be held within his ear shot. Possibly tomorrow we could sneak out unseen, while more worthy avenues caught his attention. 

A silent acknowledgement between us, I squeezed Bekkas elbow, careful not to touch her skin, recalling how it burnt her brothers hands less than fifteen minutes ago. Not wanting her to suffer the same fate, oddly protective of this fully grown vampire. A woman I'd seen rip men apart literally, just for fun. 

But there was still something fragile about her. This younger being. Feeling the need to look out for her well being in an instinctive way. 

Whatever she wanted to talk about would stew a little longer. Just as our wilder days, plans would be discussed at the most opportune moment. Time grasped in eagle talons, once found. Now the hunt began. Tilting her chin up, determined. Faintest hint of a smile on her mouth. I smirked, here was immortal I knew all too well. 

One night wouldn't kill me. Although certain Vikings would be pissed. There was nothing more I could do without further alienating Rebekah. This was a necessary pit stop, no one said rebuilding relationships would be easy or even convenient.

Karma twisted this meeting, I'd be stupid not to stop and question why. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ©Copyright on the underlined phrase belongs to CW network, Julie Plec and The Originals writers. 
> 
> (I just borrowed it, as a kind of reference. Have no intention of claiming it as something I wrote/came up with, so it remains solely their wording and I'd like to give credit where it's due. Just making that clear!! )
> 
> ☺✌&❤
> 
> 'Always & Forever'


	4. Wolven Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> * Done from Niklaus point of view. *  
> Just a quick little chapter, hope you enjoy! ♥

She'd called to him without Niklaus even being fully aware of it. He followed the wildness that the storm promised. Wolves were led by nature and he'd been drawn by instinct alone to the promise of chaos. 

That was what greeted his eyes upon entering the orchard. Frenzied, unkempt riptides of wildness.  It would have made lesser men skittish. Running for cover. But not him. 

A quiver of excitement darted through his usually steady chest. Sending tingles of anticipation to the surface of his skin. Igniting it like the surge before a change. When his bones broke and twisted into those of primal animal. The awareness of hairs growing and lengthening. Covering each layer of flesh with added sensation. It was true, in wolven form even the meerest brush of leaves against flanks sent delicious messages around his body. Urging him to seek something equally satisfying either a kill or copulation. A thing which would eliviate the adrenaline being built with each tiny movement. 

Being in some sort of semi conscious haze. Niklaus always chose the first option. He was drawn to it. Ripping open a vein was more than ample for his tastes. The vampire side kicked into overdrive once moonlight hit. A hunger twenty times that of when he was in human form. A well that could only be filled by hand fulls of fresh pumping bodies. Complete with hot cocoa of crimson delights. 

He hunted the blood. Their meaty entrails. Becoming a skulking predator. Finding prey. 

Chasing them down a thrill which came with it's own drawbacks. Sometimes he wished to toy with them. Driving on instinct alone. Wanting to lull that false sense of security. Make them believe they were safe, had somehow outrun that crazed animal, which was werewolf. He'd stalk around slowly,  sticking to shadows, watching them with mild intrigue. Before pouncing.

The pure shock and fear reflected from their eyes was apitizer enough. Screams were dessert, blood a fine champagne and torn flesh the best sirloin steak he'd ever stomached. 

The sound when skin and marrow broke beneath his jaws a comforting one. 

Niklaus swallowed, diving hands deeper into coat pockets. As a wolf he lost control. More so than he'd expected. Leaving him slightly uneasy once changed back. Surveying his conquests. Their remains. Having to come to terms with the fact that he never really registered them as human. More so just a meal, that had foolishly fallen into the wrong web of forest at precisely the right time. 

Strewn about him like the remnants of a feast. Ribcage a shattered plate that he'd broken in haste. Half chewed up limb here or there. Rather wasteful and indulgent if truth be told. Still the pickings would not go unnoticed. The usual forest dwellers would clean up his mess.  Chew through what he just could not. 

It was always the eyes that got to him.

Particularly the ones frozen open. So like beads battered by the elements for so long they lost that luster to shine. The deadness making him uncomfortable. So much so he'd draw their lids down. So they couldn't witness their murderer. He clung to the notion that the spirit hung around its wasted body for a time after death. Surveying not only the why, but how they'd come to be floating around untheadered to their human forms. 

Niklaus felt like those eyes though empty, could still see the monster in him. Or even worse, that sliver of cowardice which sometimes threatened to surface. And expose him for what he truly was,  a man afraid of being alone. 

Their slumped bodies serving as a hatch in the floor off his memory. 

Reminding him of a deer he'd once speared accidentally. Completely missing his intended target of tree stump, he'd ran to the squelched sound of steel through flesh.

He'd been hunting many times, so recognised the noise before setting eyes on what had transpired. Half expecting to meet death, his body froze in anxious tension. 

The animal was still alive. Disorientated. Mouth opening and closing repeatedly. Skittish and jumping, as only deers did when out manovering a predator. 

Tears had clouded his eyes, tumbling down in mini ripple with each blink. It was only young. Barely above his shoulder in height. The wound inflicted deep enough to penetrate the neck from one side to the other. His chest heavy with knowledge that this creature, would bleed out if he removed the impalement. But he knew,  fingers trembling with determination, that he had to do something to eleviate their pain 

Each footstep to approach the animal caused it to dart away, looking to escape. Leaving Niklaus with a superbly helpless feeling,  which he'd grown to hate. 

It's consciousness becoming less, one orb dimming before the other. Then it fell.  Suddenly. Still in a crumpled heap like disguarded clothes. 

"Next time don't let it suffer, "came the angry response of his father. The mans dagger was at deers throat. Causing  it's final rest. The slice an exact one.  Made with a certainty that would put surgeons  to shame. 

Niklaus couldn't draw his eyes from the fallen creature. It's beauty stalled in time forever. Neck not only speared but slit fully open. 

Wiping his blade clean on the animals fur with no regard to his sons wavering stance.  He broke and  drew out the wooden line. Throwing it into the grass like an irritant. 

"Boy!" Mikael jarred ,"do you hear me?  Fear taints the meat. Makes it taste off,  less gamy. More bitter. Next time. Clean kill. Straight. Precise."

This was about as far as fatherly advice went.  Made a nice change to whippings and sneers.

In Mikaels eyes at least, this particular son had plenty to prove if he ever strove to come close to Finn or Elijah's prowess. If only he'd spend more time with them and less with his sister. 

Niklaus had nodded, despite not even listening to Mikaels statement, words fell from his mouth easily. A tape on repeat, "yes father. I understand. "

Sighing in a tutting manner, "help me rope it. Your mother will be pleased. We shall feast tonight. "

And they had. Eaten till their bellies were full. Niklaus pushing the meat around for a while before secretly giving it away to the wandering village dogs. Animals that were hovering around their home. Drawn in by enticing smells. What they hadn't eaten themselves some local village families made great use of. 

"Waste of good venison, " he smirked now, drawn to chiding himself. Centuries after his boyish behaviour. 

The meat had been too rich for the animals. Made them sleepily lazy, content for the next few hours. Happy to just lay and watch the world go by. Exactly how Niklaus felt after a run as wolf. 

Maybe once he found out why Alicia was creating such a storm he would do just that. Take some time to change and pad around. 

He approached her. Taking much longer steps than necessary. Trying to assure himself that it was to assess the situation not a lingering keeness to see her again. Any edges of happiness were something best left to teenage youths, not a man who'd been around long enough to see worlds collide. 

Since she had returned to their lives from the land of the dead,  Alicia had done little more than torment him. Every other thought devoid of drama skirted around her. 

It was like she was under his skin. Had somehow gotten trapped, destinied to resurface every so often to assuage him. 

Not on purpose. She wasn't following a path to toy with him. But the knowledge alone that she was alive, yet so far from his reach did strange things to Niklaus. Persuading himself that it was a need to look after her as his siblings had done over a millennia ago. She was kin. And in need of protection. Anyone who was related to them had a uncanny knack of becoming leverage or cannon fodder. 

Knowing her power, how she conducted herself. He didn't have to stretch much to see which category she'd fall into. 

And his heart, a thing which he swore blind only beat for a sparce few, jogged a bit quicker when he thought of her. 

Niklaus was aware that he'd acted strangly toward her. And their unconventional relationship. He knew her heart. That she wanted more. The man she once knew. But that creature was dead. Had been for so long that it was more than a pain to try ressurecting even a single piece of him. He sneered at the though. That being was weak. Beaten, downtrodden. A whisper of a real man. 

None could love that. So stay hidden as a specter of the past it must. 

The tears that held wall-like, unshed in her chocolaty orbs were enough to erradicate the confident way he'd approached her. 

His gut squeezed. Niklaus wanted nothing more than to take this fragile beauty in his arms. Shield her from whatever caused such pain to hollow out her eyes. Something was changed. Different,  possibly even broken within her. 

It was the minds safety valve. A caveman stubbornness, that sent out signals 'different was bad.' For him to fully cope the variables needed to be solid. Weathered but strong. 

This wasn't the girl he once saw crafting a sword to protect from unwanted attention or bartering with greedy hunters in the village. The same person who once climbed to the apex of a tree just to prove to Rebekah that the juciest fruits grew at the top, where sun and rain alike could touch them. 

Alicia mewed, a sound of pain. Caught up in a funnel of free flying debris. Something a witch could easily dispell and control. Yet she seemed wound up so tight such course of action was impossible. 

A defeated aura glowed in flickers. 

Tensing his jaw in anguished concern. He hated to see her so. The vulnerability practically colouring the air around them. 

Taking a subtyly confident step forward he called out casually, "Alicia. "

Straining to hear her much anticipated response, lip reading most of it with amusement,"go away."

Either selflessly nudging him from danger, or shielding plans for as much bigger course of action. Niklaus couldn't decide which just yet. 

Judging by the pleading way her orbs latched into his, it was the former. 

Well, he wasn't going to leave her in this state. Worry and confusion making Alicia crouch with anxiety. Even now there was a perfect radiance to her. A rather sorrowful beauty. Locked in the center of a whiptide, layered in soil she'd still capture his imagination. It was as if she was the disease and he was entirely infected by her. Little wonder he couldn't control himself.  Either lashing out to hurt the woman or shower her with his presence. Anything that would solicit her attention to remain his way. It was stubbornly selfish, he knew that. 

In some insane ploy to keep her with him, he'd jumped the gun on a physical level. But that only served to torment and confuse them both. Leaving things much the same way as before. A huge question mark. With Camille and Alicia around, his thoughts remained scattered.  

But that would save for later analysis. Right now this weather dip needed correcting,  and the witch behind it too. 

"Afraid I can't do that love, you're creating a bit of a scene," he replied.

Earning him a small chuckle. He felt a trickle of pride, knowing exactly how to handle making her smile. It washed across her face in a flicker, Niklaus suddenly aware of his own emotions wanted more. To hear that casual inflection of her laughter. The balming effect made by it's dance on the air. Infectious and innocent, even now after centuries had torn at them. 

A quite unexpected panic jumped up. 

It had been too long since he'd last beheld it. That snippet just wouldn't suffice. 

Neither would this ridiculous proximity. If he was to be heard Niklaus would have to get much closer. Ignoring the way his stomach tensed when he thought about being within arms distance of her. He put his brain to better, more calculating use. 

There was a ledge Alicia stood precariously on. He would have to silver tongue her down from it. 


	5. Short & Sweet

It was hard to shuffle into any form of repose. Remnants of fireflies still dancing to through shut eyelids. I'd been laid there trying to force my brain to switch off when faint plodding met my ears.  

So slight, had I not been in the company of immortals, I would have questioned their existence at all.  Here surrounded  by stealthy beings it was clear as day that someone was sneaking around. By the sounds of it walking gingerly on pads of their soles. Minimizing the sounds. 

Focused on direction, my breath halted, shadows stopped right outside bed chamber door. Apparently the owner of these feet thought better of entering. Struggling internally with their decision. My eyes remained glued on the elongated shadows. Stretched long in the thin bead of light framing them beneath door jam. A sudden flit of nerves shot through me. Only breathing out when the figure back tracked. Quicker, but just as quiet as their approach. 

Yawning in disbelief I forced my eyes closed once more. No wonder I was on edge. Back here in the boosom of the Big Easy.That blasted town fast becoming the bane of my existence. Trying to shove what happened hours ago into a file. One which would be properly perused at a later stage. When both body and mind were more capable to dissect them fully. 

'Come on Alicia. Sleep, sleep!' giving an exasperated pep talk in the hope that z's would eventually sink in. 

Inner voice falling silent as the balcony door edged open. 

What the hell? 

Slight breeze entering the room accompanying a slinking figure. Venturing to crack open my lids as they turned to close over the glass slowly. Easing it shut to muffle the click of metal into locked resting place. 

Tall, slimette, male. Niklaus of course. 

Who else would dare to sneak in unannounced. 

Pretending to be in restful slumber, his attention turned to me fully. Focused on the bed. Footfalls weightless across thick threaded, embroidered rug. An antique, regal looking thing. 

A zing thrilled through my veins upon spying his bare feet. It was illogical, but his sneaking around, trying the utmost not to be heard in this way was very interesting. A bit exciting that he would go through such effort to come to this chamber, a room inhabited by me no less. Surely I should be last person on his mind. 

Still. What exactly did he want? He had, as of yet to announce his arrival. 

No move had been made to rouse this supposedly resting form. 

There was a whoosh, followed by slight wheeze of cushion being expelled of air. Realizing that the hybrid must have sat down. Making himself comfortable.

Heavy ladies dressing chair had been positioned there. Within arms reach. By the bed.  Away from it's usual place overlooking the dresser. A small, elegantly carved wooden stool stood in it's stead. 

Something brushed stray hair off my forehead softly. Trying not to startle, dull realisation that Niklaus fingertips had met my skin briefly. Flesh reacting as always from the smallest touch.  

He sighed, repositioning. What was that about. My curiosity got the better of me. Peeking through lidded sight, his clasped hands, wrung together only inches from my face. The hybrid was hunched over head dipped in thought. Thankfully too drawn inwards to notice orbs squinting a surveillance. Completely elsewhere at that moment. Following a train of hybrid thought. Lost to their secret whispers. Elbows resting on knee caps. 

A strong, albeit somewhat defeated stance. Slipping eyes shut when he dragged in a sighed inhale. Not wanting to be caught out just yet. There was a piece of me that wanted to see where he was going with this. Smelling slight wafts of dusky aftershave hovering in the air. Atmosphere silent around us. A kind of comfortable quiet,  although our minds were clearly far from still. 

Had he come here to talk?  Did something weigh on him? 

'What's going on with you,' he whispered. Voice so whispy, the air itself seemed to claim it. Shielding it in such a way that it made me query if he'd spoken at all. Another deep sigh, 'had I but the means to help... '

He fell again into long drawn out silence. Struggling with my own racing mind. Was there a need for him to be present in this room? Did he have to convince himself that I was no threat to the compound. His daughter, the tiniest wolf.

After such an obvious meltdown, had the idea been a correct one to bring me here. Yet he had led the way. Rebekah and myself merely followed. No opposition was voiced when the room had been prepared, once more opened up to me. It was not like him to be quite. Yet Niklaus hadn't even mentioned the storm or anything regarding my sudden visit. 

Leaving myself and his sister to speak quietly amount ourselves. What was more unsettling the absence of rage, or this sudden fascination with my well being? 

No doubt he still laboured under the illusion that I was here to avenge Eric. The hybrid was, after all in possention of one of the Vikings old blades. An object in need of retrieval.

My spiral out of control could be seen as a sideline to other intentions. At least in his eyes. Rebekah had put the thought there. Surely it surfaced enough to make him certain regarding reasons I would visit New Orleans. He hated Eric. And my loyalty to the Viking was known, even before his supposed stealing of artifacts. 

I was an unwelcome guest, so why not treat me as such. Niklaus had ripped people apart for speaking out of turn. Yet took no great steps to give me a long overdue interrogation. This was the complexity of the puzzled emotions racing around my scattered thoughts. 

Super conscious of his continued observation. I forced steady, hopefully lazy breaths.Was this how he had been before, when situation dictated that I be left convalescing in their home. In that luxurious room of his. Encased in Niklaus getaway from the world. Hardly believing he had kept vigil over me all those months ago, he seemed drawn to do the same now. This time though, I was conscious enough to fully comprehend the dept of such attention. Stunning me to no end. 

Why was it this man had to hide behind layers of prickles? Did he actually believe showing any form of caring was weakness. And as sure as the sun rose this was a reigned in admission of concern. 

Fingers periodically grazed ever so lightly through my hair. Following the waves as they fell across head and pillow alike. It was soothing, so calming that I could feel tension leaving my body & a yawn crept up. Breaking free all at once. Before it could be reigned in. 

Niklaus paused, startled by the sound, & sudden movement of my supposed 'sleeping' face. 

His hand remained paused mid stroke through strands of brown/black hair. Mouth ajar in shock.  

It made me smile, in a tired, half  line of mirth,"well that's not creepy.. "

He swallowed, caught as a bear stuck in honey jar. Disbelief etched on usually confident features. Clearly the hybrid hadn't wanted to be found with his mask down. Unable to move back quick enough without yanking hair in the process. 

Muttering lowly,"my apologies, I just... "

"How long are you going to sit there like a moniacle stalker?" cutting his embarrassed excuse short. 

He was being nice. I didn't want to draw out long, bumbling, lame explanations. Reverting to a slight teasing tone. One which was sure to spark choppy answer. Make his discomfort short lived. 

"Long enough to assess the situation and assure you're alright," he rose up off the chair sharply, "seeing as you are. I'll bid you goodnight.... "

Without thinking, a sort of panic gripped me. Couldn't be rid of his presence just yet. But why, was still a mystery.

Reaching out to clutch his hand before it fully left my orbit,"wait please!"

He stopped, casting down a sideways glance my way, "Alicia..."

Whatever he saw on my face was too dark to be reflected back. But it halted his response. 

"Can you.... I mean, would you mind," God in heaven, what was I doing. Stumbling over words, a child on stage in a school play,"please stay a while.. I just.. "

Can't be alone right now, my mind finished. Unable to bring myself to admit that to him. Ashamed of it in a way. Seeming needy, weak. 

Even given recent happenings. And the fact that he had been able to help me leash magical imbalance. My brain still stood on the fence. Not wanting to admit needing further contact or consolation from a person who twisted any happiness towards pain. The complete irrationality of it all. 

But deep in my gut, somewhere hidden, there was an unshakable knowledge that solice could be found here. With him.Two broken souls could speak to each other. Couldn't they? 

Deep blue orbs continued  to watch with intrigue. 

His mouth curled, ever so small into a lopsided crescent. 

"Of course," said so easily,I refused to believe he actually agreed. Even more shockingly, the man didn't lord it over me. Yet. 

Wondering exactly what he was thinking.

If anything correlated with mine. An almost strange aura. Being able to see that despite all our arguments, there was a narrow path of peace between us. 

Squeezing my hand in his, I faltered,"thank you.. I, it's only.."

"Shhh," he whispered. 

Walking around the bed to climb in beside me. Lying on top of the covers, positioning himself to my back. Crossing arms around my form carefully. As if we were innocently spooning. If there was such a thing. 

Drawing my body closer to his in a tight hug. 

I wrestled with anxiety. Maybe this was worse than being on my own. Facing a tormented night of nightmare visions may be more preferential. Especially if he sought to talk.

Would he try to get to the bottom of his 'mind blank' regarding Shreveport?

Or maybe solicit further information about my misendeavours. All the felled bodies I claimed coated my hands. The Meadonforth massacre. Did he want to find out the depth of my evil doings? 

Thankful he couldn't see my face, eyes darting around anxiously. Tracing the splintering questions as they shot around my mind. 

"I'm here," his breath reassured, mistaking the skittishness of my racing heart for fear. Breeze of his statement cooling down my heated ears. Did he have to be so close? So disarmingly neutral. Where was the rage,  the unending inquiries,  that I expected to rush forth from his mouth with each breath. "Just relax. Close your eyes. I'm not going anywhere, it's alright."

Leaning back into the slow rthym of his fingers once more stroking my hair. Permitting a weight to be shifted enough to indeed relax. The world stopped raging. Ceased banging on the doors of my palace. Shouts and accusations of the blood on my hands quietening to mere whispers. Niggling in little ways. 

Everything was becoming a weary haze. His presence was actually a great comfort. Unwavering strength of hybrid aura radiating outwards, sharing power with all around it.The grit to march out fear ,trample on waking terrors. 

"Niklaus... "I began. Some exhausted thought that fell away with the last dregs of my awake consciousness. Never to be fully formulated into coherent speech. I was grateful for him being around. It needed saying. Even when he was verging on crazy, the hybrid knew how to connect with his human side. 

Arms wrapped tighter around me. Soft chuckle trickled through, following my descended tumble into slumber," I know. Just sleep now."

***

When I woke up he was gone. Nothing but an empty space where he must have laid for a few hours. Pillow ruffled from being squashed with pressure. 

Turning around slowly brought his scent back. Soft wisps that teased a small smile across my face. Pulling the blankets up in a bunch in my arms. Feeling a wash of comfortable happiness swell in my chest. Niklaus had come to check on me. Cared enough to extend his companionship when being alone freaked me out.There was still trace left, however small, of the young man I once knew. 

Battling with the little voice attempting to remind me of his diabolical ways.There was still a chance that the man was toying with my feelings again. But if I erred on the cautious side maybe this time a bit more protection could be put up. 

Shreveport had to teach me something, or all that torment would be for nought. 

Listening to the brain battling away with gut. 

'Somethings gotta give.'

'He thinks he's playing you. Lead him.'

'Take the reigns.See how he likes it.'

'Pull those goddamned strings!'

Squinting my eyes shut. Focusing on quieting the voices. Ones that were not my own. More or less unwanted co-pilots. Essences that urged routes shrouded in darkness. 

Pulling in a few deep centered breaths, concentration on air alone. I was able to box them away. A temporary solution. At least without them scattering the atmosphere my own uninterrupted thoughts could be heard. Not that they were much better. 

But at least they were Mine. Trusting them more than the twisted lamentations of other witches. 

Dragging myself hesitantly out of this warm nest, heading to the ensuite. 

Now that my mind was clear, so much had too be done. Couldn't afford to be knocked off track. However changeable the pit stop was.

Top of the list a chat with my Mikaelson sister. It would be much easier than getting a location on stranded Chevy. No, the car would have to come after. 

Whatever Rebekah had too say must be of importance. Prodding at my mind insistently, as to what it was. 

****

 "Eric," I said softly. Hoping to soothe the Vikings ramblings. "Give me a moment to.... "

"What? Figure out another way to say you'd rather be in that vipers nest than here. "

Rubbing across my eyes tiredly. Why had I bothered to answer him. Knowing full we where the conversation would head off to. Upon seeing the name flash on the screen, a sinking ball dropped in my stomach. He'd expected me back last night. This absence from his side in Fangtasia, more than dully noted.

No doubt himself and Pam would have spent time speculating, not only what the hold up was, but whether their nest mate would return with tail between her legs.  With more stories of woe from this particular neck of the wood.

They were joined in a mutual hatred of all things regarding the Big Easy.

Formulating an answer that wouldn't push this Viking into a temper. I stared longingly at the bath, all foamy with bubbles beside me. So inviting in its innocence. The force of warm water and it's ability to soothe never ceased tl amaze me. His call had come at the exact moment I'd intended on sinking into the hot goodness. 

"No of course not. My home, that place is with you & Pam, " strolling around on the bath mat as I spoke quietly, " it's just something happened. " I could hear his tense intake. "Another blackout. "

Noise scuffed down the line, creating static, he readjusted his hold on the receiver, "bad? "

Leaning heavily on the side of the tub I conceded, " not as 'destructive' as before... But yes, still pretty bad. Considering I can't exactly get a leash on things. " choosing my next words carefully. "I'm afraid Eric."

He snorted, " what could you possibly fear?"

The blond giant saw this increase of power as nothing but a bonus. Whereas struggling with fizzles on a daily basis was far from beneficial .

"What if this 'thing' makes me a loose cannon. I can't chance bringing that crud to your door... Or anyone else's for that matter. You can stand testament to that."

Had he not pointed out trails of Meadonforth following my feet through his town. The aura of death it brought. 

Could last night have turned into another 'episode'? Veins skyrocketing immediately. 

My God,  if Niklaus hadn't been there. Hadn't been able to somehow get through to me,  become a central anchor.  What would have happened. Would the city be quashed as easily as that little place. The one I'd destroyed unconsciously. 

"Lillasyster, " he murmured, " there are those who are a burden on me. Don't seek to lump yourself with them."

Squeezing the ball of emotion forming in my throat down, changing tact lest this subject draw impeding tears forth. Those of relief and sorrow. He may not see me or this situation as a thorn but I was more than aware of the magnitude of recent sparks. Meadonforth, Ansel, heck even here in New Orelans, my body was primed like a ticking time bomb. Set to go off and destroy whatever I truly held dear.

Was this a twisted way to rid me of all distractions, get me on team Dahlia. Or whatever wicked twist of coven was forming inside my very being.

Besides the voices, I harboured the magnitude of the witches in my core. All their hatred and warped vendettas. That combined power. Could this downward spiral be because of them? 

Freya was becoming more vocal and had seemed to branch off on her one to taunt me. Was that a rouse to get control of my earthen body to do their bidding. A play of misdirection to confuse situation even further. 

"So Jason, he's giving you a hard time? " asking about Sookies rather hot headed brother. 

He gritted his teeth, letting a deep laugh roll out, " that punk? Ain't nothing that I can't handle with a pinkie finger. "

"Still, kid gloves okay, " I reminded, " she is his sister after all. Can't blame the guy for wanting to find her. "

"Well he can do without hanging around the club. Casting wild accusations about how I must be harboring Bill Compton. "

This made me laugh, " you?  That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. He does realise you hate the man? "

"Apparently us 'fangers' stick together. Protect our own. "

Speaking on with renewed vigor about the Stackhouse brother, we seemed to forget the previous annoyed tone of our discussion. Jason thought the local police force weren't taking his sisters disappearance seriously. He was hard on Sheriff Belfleurs back, demanding more manpower be put into investigating it.

He was right to be antsy. Her sudden invisibility was not as simple as a grown woman merely checking out for a romantic getaway.

Which is what the force thought may be the case. It's why they were pushing his worries away. Sometimes people ducked out. Sookie would be back soon. Seeing as there was nothing out of place in her house, no struggle or signs of anything untoward,  they basically didn't care all they much. The station undermanned and over stretched as it was. Keeping leash on vampire/mortal disagreements coupled with crime waves meant no one could really put all there effort into a missing, adult woman. 

I signed off the call, telling Eric to catch some sleep. He'd already disrupted his natural cycle from staying up to converse with me. The vampire needed all his wits about him if he was to keep up this charade regarding what he knew of Bill and Sookies absence. 

Dressed in casual wear Rebekah was kind enough to lend me. I headed towards my sisters room. 

She smiled widely, ushering me in with gentle grace. 

"They look good on you, " she stated,  giving me a quick appraisal. The navy distressed skinny jeans and blouse quite chic but laid back. The woman could never be accused of having poor taste. Keeping abreast of latest trends and fashion. A style more contemporary to my own, yet appreciated nonetheless. 

"Bit tight, but thank you for saying so, " I confided lowly, " always was envious of your perfect figure. "

"Oh what this," she mocked doing a twirl in front of her full length mirror, " good genetics that's all. One of the only things I can really appreciate my mother passing down."

Tugging at the beautiful floral silk top, my eyes were drawn to comparing us in the reflective glass. Chalk and cheese came to mind. True we were about the same height. Although you'd never know given the heels she adored wearing. But our builds so different. Her slim body and fabulous halo of blond hair, a stark contrast to the fuller figure I'd carried my whole life. The bust that I'd strapped down and cursed at various stages throughout centuries when I tried to pass myself off as a male. That and a more pronounced bottom. Gave an hourglass type shape. Putting that down to my mixed heritage from my parents.

We were a really opposing sisterhood. Rebekah the clearly Viking/Norse descent, myself purely Afro/European. An odd couple. Yet a kinship had been made, one which could be rebuilt and treasured. 

"Here, " I exclaimed reaching for a brush, pointing to her ever-so bed tangled hair, "allow me. "

She nodded sitting before me. Watching in relaxed manner through her dressing table mirror, I worked through the knots gently. Taking in her room while doing so. The furniture similar to the one in the guest bedroom. Her touch no doubt trailed throughout the compound. The Mikaelson brothers laying choice of decor at her more than capable feet. Rebekahs influence could be seen almost everywhere. Subtlety feminine,  leaning heavily towards classical, antiquated charm. It really worked. Bringing her families heritage to the forefront. None that entered the compound would be disappointed about what they found. It was clear that this was the home of highly distinguished beings. Immortal and prone to blood bath outbursts,  but distinguished nonetheless. 

"Remember we used to do this years ago, " she beamed reaching up to clasp my hand fondly. 

"Hard to forget, " I admitted, "your hair always makes me smile. So like the sun."

Falling into silent nostalgia.Those were the days when we dreamed. Life an open blank book. Stretched out as far as our imaginations could go. 

"I need to ask a favor of you, " Rebekah said simply, "but after last night. I don't know if I should even dare."

She turned sharply, blue eyes blazing up at me. 

"What is it Bekkah?" 

Shaking blond curls slowly," not here." Rising to signal her determination, hanging the tone to a more happy one, "we have a girls day planned do we not?"

Attempting to distance us from eager ears and their inquisitive owners. I repeated her phrase from last night, "ain't that the truth simply."


	6. Girl Down

Gunning the engine I shifted up into fifth gear. Tearing up tarmac putting as much distance between myself ant that compound as I could. Running over that past few hours in my mind.  Feeling the tiredness lingering in my bones. 

The truck was heavy. Much more so than I was used to handling, although power steering made the take manageable. It was one of those flatbed kind of deals, with a detachable metal hood and at max three person seating up front. Ideal for big shopping excursions or carrying stock to market if you were a small country trader. 

Leaning onto the plush window, scraping hair into my clamped fist. This was an uncharistically rushed turn of events. Seeing in my minds eye, my beloved Chevy. Now covered with a tarp and parked in an abandoned building south of the repurposed church. It's chassis banged up pretty bad now that it was scrutinized in fresh light of day. 

Marcel had made a flippant remark about women drivers, which earned him a condescending glare from both myself and Rebekah, his own eyes alight with amusement. Clearly he wanted to play a bating game with his loving partner. A thing which fell limply around us. 

Nothing sat right. Not then, most certainly not now. 

The warm embrace of my sister sending chills through me. A cold that lingered still. As a wave of something unfinished niggles at the back of twisted thoughts. 

We'd been too impulsive, left a box uncrossed. That's what happened when you rushed things. Even though immortal we were still essentially human and prone to make error. 

'Damn, damn, damn, ' I cursed to myself. 

Hating this strange feeling. Often getting it when I left the house, needing to double back and check that I'd turned all the plugs off, locked doors right only to find a quarter mile later I was still wearing house shoes. 

Hoping when the threads unraveled, whatever glaringly hidden mistake wouldn't prove to be a doozy. Hearing my cargo creaking warningly from behind glass and steel. I cast a quick glimpse in the rearview mirror. Once assured that all remained secure my brain overran itself once more. 

Driving this thing was like leashing a rhino, attempting to ride the hulking mass of charcoal/grey hide. A heavy, temperamental affair. 

After coming to a obvious, but nonetheless irritating agreement with Marcel,  I found myself relieved of the archaic Chevy and lumbered with this thing instead. 

It wasn't a swap by any means, but got me from one point to another. The vampire had gone to the local precinct and located the whereabouts of my battered car. Before making arrangements for it to be towed to the run down building it now resided in. He knew a mechanic or two who owed him a 'solid', so was more than happy to call in the favour. Get them to give *Old blue* a once over. 

"What is it with men and cars, "Rebekah had muttered, rolling her eyes heavenward, "why must every one of them be given a name. "

"Come on now you're just jealous you didn't get in their first, " he chuckled slipping arms around her waist playfully, " what would you have gone with? "

She raised a brow thoughtfully, pouting pink lips, "oh I don't know... Car... As in Alicia's 'seen better days' car. "

He laughed while acknowledging her input, "yeah, catchy! Should get that put on a bumper sticker. "

I watched their interaction in a completely dumbfounded way. How could they be so 'casual', after what we had just done. 

\--------

Staring into endless grey my stomach sank lower. The weather mimicked how I felt. Sketchy and unsure. 

Rebekah had left forwarding message asking that we should meet here, away from the compound, far from over zealous ears. The text was mainly vague. Not letting me know, one, what she needed and two, if it was possible for me to help. I wanted to disappear. 

After the meeting with her brother in the mist of  'Hurricane Alicia',  the intended path was one of searching. Merete pointed me to a destination, all remaining was to cement flights. Make an immediate departure. 

What was supposed to be a girly day had been side railed by a call from Marcel. She had immediately excused herself leaving to chat to the vampire face to face.

Meanwhile a stroll around town was more up my alley, not wanting to third wheel their private affairs. If truth be told the couple hardly had anytime together as it was. Our chat had been postponed until now. 

It was ample time to visit some old haunts. See how the land laid in Davinas driven coven. Old Greek flowed through my mind, like a refrain. A spell being repeated by one of the numerous voices in my head. 

The annotations older, more steady than that of the young Freya. 

'Ward yourself.'

Knowing that this was Dahlia, she was more vocal in the past few hours. Louder than her niece and sister. 

'These are my people,' I threw back internally, lest the occupants of the Quarter thought I was crazy. Stood talking to myself. Seeing as they would sense a spirit, my chatter would be out of place. The less attention drawn my way the better.

The flowing laughter annoying me,'these are not Your anything. Don't be so foolish girl.'

'Please...' I stammered,' if not fellow witches than what?' 

'Of Ancient they are not, try again.'

'Give it a rest Dahlia,' exasperated as I tried to figure out the potency of some Chinese herbs.

'One of us at least needs to be serious. If they taste our power, that harvest welp will claim you for herself.'

'I'm not a possession....' Nor is the power 'ours,' I thought. It was selfish, but as the only living witch, only one able to hone such powers. She was not going to be allowed take reign on whatever this was flowing through me.

More laughter,'no of course not. but were you not channeled?'

'Don't even...' Shooting eyes around at the crowded shop. There were too many people here for me to loose leash like yesterday. But thankfully the witch didn't venture any further. 

Only drawing a sigh,'you can thank me later.'

It was my turn to chuckle,' for what, interfering?'

'For keeping you hidden.'

Those were her final words. Chanting starting afresh. It was then I chose to move to a less populated spot. Happy that I was alone. My wandering proved successful, remaining hidden under the radar of certain men. Small mercies. Had to love them. 

Elijah was too preoccupied to notice his sister was hiding things. Namely the slight of hand we had player visa vis their more diabolical sibling. His memories were fabricated a thing that remained intact. And I would forever carry our tryst in my home as a solo memory. His false utterance gone as with the full extent of Eric's torture. I'd left it entirely in the vikings hands not only the when but how he sought to get vengeance for Niklaus so called 'stealing' of a precious belonging. Let the two bulls lock horns, so long as I remained in blissful ignorance the better. That way warring over sides would forever stay away. 

"Hey," Rebekah breezed, strolling up with an air of determination. She had some major things to discuss, that much was clear from the steady, hurried footfalls. Smiling at the classically dressed vision before me I greeted her back. 

Our stroll had slowed to an amble. Deciding to hit some shops and save a sit down meal for later. We paused to check out some winter hats on display. The woman twisting a nice faux fur in her hands serenely. 

Assessing it while speaking lowly,"so how long are you in town this time?"

Swallowing nervously," Bekka, I wasn't even meant to be here to begin with...things just.,"

"Got out of hand," she suggested, pulling a face at the way the hat sat on her head," they don't make things the way they used to,"she interjected before swerving back on topic," tell me how is that rather dashing man of yours? "

I looked at her dumbfounded for a moment,  penny taking a nano second to drop, " Alcide? Yes he's fine... "

"Only 'fine'? "Bekka teased raising an eyebrow, "sounds to me like your being a bit secretive. Are you perchance down playing this thing you have going with him."

Shuffling uncomfortably under the crystal gaze of blues.  I struggled to respond, " it's...eh....complicated. "

Her surveillance moved into stealth mode,  squinting squarely into my face, "don't tell me you still harbour feelings for... "

Heart swollen to bursting point as her accusation aimed ever truer. My brain clumsily raced through possibly excuses, lies an outcome that didn't cement her distrust.  We were friends.  Inseparable in our plans for life in general. And although she only recently admitted her knowledge of feelings I harbored for her brother. She mist have known for a while,  there was a slight edge of envy to the tones she took regarding those observations. 

The ringing of her cell had seemingly distracted her. It was welcome.  Like a death sentence reprieve granted seconds before execution. 

"Jules? "She queried picking up before it had chance to chime again, "is everything alright? "

"Code red,"came the response,  whispered through the throng of what sounded like the baying of emergency room equipment. 

A receptionists monotonous drone, anxious patients getting shriller as documents we're handed to them for filling out and beeping of machines. 

Mikaelson orbs shot to me, giving the caller a one worded response, "ten. "

The 'ten' Rebekah had been referring to was the amount of time it would take us to reach the hospital. She hadn't even explained much to me at all,  just grabbed my hand and raced us right on over here. 

Standing in a staunch white room, that smelt so strongly of disinfectant it made even my blood feel sickly, things started to become clearer. 

Jules, the young woman who had called her was prepping some bowls and candles. Ignoring the fact that I was at loggerheads with what was being put in motion. 

My eyes were fixed on the patient of this private room. A lady in her mid twenties, with a shock of choppy honey kissed hair. Face a healthy glow of freckles despite the wan appearance that prodded her cheekbones to be quite pronounced on her face. Her form was thin. Clearly bedridden for some time. Muscle had began to be eaten into making her appear quite fragile. 

"Run this by me again, "my tone was flat,  dry. 

Wanting to make sure I had hear her fast paced explanation correctly the first time. 

"I've got a transference spell here,  can you put my consciousness into her? "Rebakah said levelly,  although her tone was beginning to fray sightly. 

The two medical practitioners in this room had already stopped the patient from dying. Which judging by their dimmed eyes, they had been complelled to do. 

Turning to face my sister,  steady hand on hers, " Rebekah into this girl,  but what..... "

I was struggling to understand her thinking.  She was an immortal,  why did she wish to trade that for anyone other state of being. 

No to mention the battle posed by my own conscience. What right had I got to use this poor mortal to become a vessel for anyone. 

Mikaelson orbs as keen as ever in discerning my unease and the exact cause of it. 

"She came in in a vegetative state with a donor card, " Rebekah motioned to the vampire intern, "ask Jules,  ask them.. "

She was trying to rationalize this decision. Make things more ethical for me. Something I appreciated. No other vampire would be as accommodating to the notion of scales and wrong versus right,  but even with her theory it still sat badly with me. 

Sure the lady had been a good human being,  offering their body to science after they died. In the hopes of saving others organ wise. But nowhere on that tiny card did it give scope for immortal takeover. 

"Rebeakh that's not the same as..."

"What her full cooperation?  Are you going to help with this body or not?  Bloddy hell I've checked everything! She's got no family, no one has stepped forward to claim her," Bekkah paused only to catch breath mid rant, "and most importantly there's no brain function. I could have suggested someone conscious..."

"Alright!" throwing my hand up in submission, stalling the ever increased volume she was reaching with each sentence. Nodding woodenly. I conceded, knowing she was right, this poor Jane Doe was far better choice than anyone else,"I'll do it."

Clapping her hands in an elated way, "oh thank you. You won't regret this. "

"Anything for you sister, "I mumbled.

Hoping against hope, that she wouldn't make this one of the numerous mistakes I'd been prone to misjudge. Fighting to control the way my body instantly shot to action, clammouring to argue within itself. Voices primed to chime in and each give me their own heightened opinions. 

Rebekah was practically jumping on the spot,  a toddler who'd got their way in candy store. Sure this was small sacrifice for her continued silence regarding Niklaus and Shreveport. 

Lying my sister down onto an adjoining gurney, my frazzled body cast the incantation. With the help of her apparently trusted friend Jules. 

Whips of fire ants darted around my brain with the passage of power needed for the spell. Threatening like a warning to put a stop cap on magic. At least until I could speak to someone with a witchy band aid. 

Leaning onto the metal rail in complete exhaustion, Jane Doe's  eyes flickered open. 

Chuckling in a disbelieving way when the blue orbs flew my way. Of course she'd pick a girl with the same apple shaped kind of eyes. Mirror image to her own. The subtle similarities to her vampire body making me uncomfortable. Her spirit shone from a face that was clearly a strangers. 

A weird series of emotions shot through my veins. 

Brain battling with sight. This person was my sister, yet not. Uncanny. Shiver up the spine strange.

She noticed my staring in an amused way.

"What is it? "came the drawl of one Rebekah Mikaelson, "doesn't she look good on me? "

"Yes Bekkah, " I said simply, "just fine. Perfect fit."

As if idly discussing clothing. Almost laughable. 

But I couldn't help the sadness of loss that made an appearance. Looking at the other guerny. The pale, still form. Colour gradually leaking from it. How long would she need this 'loaner' when a much better form awaited her. The physique I had always known to be Rebekah Mikaelson. 

"Dont worry, "she said, coming to stand by my side, " I'm sure you'll take good care of me till I get back right?"

Knowing at that moment that she trusted me more than her brothers. Even more than Marcel. Slipping her jewellery off the stiffening form to place them on her new acquisition. 

She grinned happily. 

"So what do you intend to do sister? "I queried.  Still not sure why she needed a mortal body. 

"Travel the world, swim with dolphins, " she said jokingly, " oh, and get a well deserved break from my family. They can be rather tedious you know. "

I nodded," And murderous, insane, superbly cunning. The list goes on!"

Running a hand down my now shaky back she agreed, "that is but to name a few of their finer traits. This way, " she said, pointing to her lifeless body, " without my exact blood flowing they can't really trace me. That spell hides my consciousness. And well after you take and cloak this beauty,  they won't be able to locate me at all. Real freedom for once, and I didn't have to get permission first. "

She spread her arms like wings,  giving pretext of flying. That enigmatic smile, the look of pure bliss stayed with me. It would paper over the cracks of my doubths. 

Surely the Bekka I knew cared not for her brothers blessings.  She'd never been shy to go against them before and in her own body. This was different. Maybe once gone,  she wouldn't want to return. Leaving her body with me and that blood connection along with it, put the ball squarely in her court, not only the when but if she got in contact with Any of us. Myself included. 

Reaching to turn on the radio for company.  And to flood my brain of thoughts,  I relaxed a bit. I owed her this much. After all she had been through,  Rebekah deserved a life of less stress even for a while. 

Tapping fingernails to the beat of a catchy drum intro. I again peered at the box that was anchored in the back of the truck. 

This was not the kind of road trip I envisioned. 

Myself and an unconscious vampire. But she had entrusted me with her very essence. That dark wooden box held my dearest and oldest friend. Humming along to the tones of some country/rock mashup. Imagining her sat beside me, joining in the tune. Singing in that lovely light voice she had when no one was around to appreciate it. 

Driving with determination towards Shreveport.  

If only a psychiatrist could see me now. Wrestling with internal voices,  magical meltdowns and supernatural powers. 

Me, myself and I, ferrying a coffin, with Rebekahs true body inside. 

God,  they'd institutionalize me. 

 


	7. Nerave

Traversing Nerave was horrendous. Every bit the well of despair I'd built up in my mind. 

Living through the atrociries of war, meant that one could attempt to be prepaired. Work up the picture in your senses and dull the shock somewhat.

More than likely similar to the dehumanizing methods some soldiers went through before facing battle.

A kind of worthless dream. A belief that oftentimes ended up short lived. Once feet touched tumultuous soil. For no one, not even the highly trained could truly say they were 100% equipped for this. The basest form of greed and humanity.

But knowing the heart of evil, came with its own advantages. I wasn't overly surprised to see the level of torture people inflicted on one another. All under the guise of living in a god fearing world. Surely if that was the case they would quake under pure certainty, that their sins were laid out before him. Ready for their excuses as each was dissected. Perused at leisure to deem fit a punishment worthy of the crime. 

My soul quaked with the knowledge that I wouldnt even meet that creator. For misdeeds against the living and dead, damnation was stamped with permanence to my papers. What demonic jail was the most befitting for one such as me. A scales. Meant to give balance to those crushed by it.

What a shame.To wield power, yet not use it accordingly. This was my greatest downfall. And to the pits I would surely go. Destined from before time itself. 

A blast of tempered voices shook me free of such woe-betide thoughts. Moving to the other side of the street. Avoiding the fray.  Less people who saw a foreigner on their soil the better. Feet stampeded to and fro. The darting off of those unwilling to further involve in a situation destinied to escalate.

I breathed a frustrated sigh. Letting that emotion bleed out and into the air. Atmosphere eating up that magical inkling. Taking moments to listen to the silent whipsers. I felt icy wind sweep through. Closing my eyes in satisfaction. The dip should dispell some short tempers. Changes like that in weather, meant a snow storm fast approaching. Was the least that could be done, without physically fighting battles, to help that small group of people.

Some of whom were younger teenagers. Those barely touching adulthood. A ripe age where hormones kicked up illusions of superpowers. A phase where all was possible and their bodies invincible. Until reality bit back,  proved that they weren't. That both death and severe injuries were too painful a sensation to comprehend. By then the lesson would be learnt, in ways that couldn't be turned back.  Especially in a place like this. When such youths took on soilders and bore weapons with little to no proper training for them. 

The falling flakes of snow would dispell such innocents. Keep the slates blank for now. Heavens swinging doors may greet them another weary day. A small reprieve. 

Going back to the serenity of memory palace was difficult,  but not yet impossible. Which was a small mercy. It helped stop-cap the bristles of wandering magic from becoming unbearable. Putting myself there, seeing it's shadowed form reminded me that all was not lost. And Meadonforth Park, ever the conscious sin, worked together to keep explosion in check. At least for now. Clutching tight at my stomach I strode on. Ignoring the sensation that I was becoming accustomed to. That of cramped pain dicing through torso.  The tempered down warning my body gave, that it still fought daily with the complexity of the power of joined witch forces. 

'Soon a proper answer would be given to help heal or deal with this acquisition.' the voice of my usually sharp tongued co-pilot urged. 

Small comfort that we were on my the same page. She somehow kept the nagging of Dahlia out of my mind. Freya too was quiet.

Too silent. But I couldn't worry about what that meant right now. Had to concentrate on bigger things. Keeping a low profile in this country topping the chart. 

The air of this once noble Republic smelt of uncertainty. People had two modes, hate or distrust. Sometimes both. A firearm never too far from their grasp. What remained of the tattered educational system was a joke. How could they forge forward,  past all of this?

My heart bled for the future of Nerave. Would they have any? Even the children wore a mask of adversity. A worn out crease on brows too used to unrest.

That was also true for the Sedir I'd encountered there. Not too far into the capital town.

My guide had abandoned me, following the call of uprising. Townsfolk had gotten wind of another attempt on their government buildings. So every able body flocked there for support and to further the fight. Whispering of further revolt. A big standoff was inevitable. It could be felt,  marching through the blood of Neraves people. 

Slipping through the small gathering masses. I ducked a furtitive head towards the ground. Avoiding possible attempts to be recruited to their cause.

Gripping my hand gun tighter. Truth be told it was only for show. What need had I for bullets, when mere words, encantations would render people incapacitated but not dead. Following a precise location stamp of located coordinates I found myself practically in a tiny backyard. Mere moments from being skewered by a hairpin triggered divice set to tear apart any unwanted intruders. 

He'd eyed me with knowledge, the Sedir, "you're an old one are you not?"

Thankfully speaking in English instead of the local dialect. I nodded taking down the hood that was obscuring my face. Relinquishing the magical cloak that hid my lineage. 

"My name is...."

"Ali-leka, come." Abrupt, to the point he showed me into his humble home.

"Or would you prefer Alicia, it is not what your blond sister called you? As she learned to speak. A name that stuck, much easier for the New World to say."

"Whichevers easiest for you," I responded.

Not exactly giving clue to what I preferred. Even my father succumbed to the acquired name. Finding it pretty, in the way it fell from the tongues of surrounding villagers. He saw a certain charm to it.  Only using my birth given name when he was trying to converse with me about important matters. Things that I 'Must' listen and adere to. Like the rules regarding the forest and moons passage, that had been drilled into my head.

"Then Alicia it is," the man said simply," It has a ring of intrigue to the pronunciation. "

Trying to keep confident even with the wall of animals, both dead and alive that surrounded us. 

He viewed me with orbs that betrayed little. Scrutinizing the sight before him, "such a thing, the mark of pain. You come for insight, yes? "

Pushing aside words that were probably spoken to derail me. Or uncover reactions to help him dish out answers. I sought to put up my own barrior of invisible wall. Merete had the uncanny ability to see into my emotions, this man was no more than a stranger. An intrusion like that was one I couldn't allow. Whatever he saw would be focused on one thing, getting an address to the ever elusive Ancients. A people both myself and Merete assumed were here. 

I'd been sat with her when the spell was cast. Witnessed the coordinates. The honesty we shared a true one. Something was amiss in Nerave. And this man was the link to the next move on chess board. 

A position in my never ending files would be created. Stamped with details, snippets of this new person. 

Stepping forward to study his living room. Take a snapshot for my memory lest something peak interest, cause me to give it further inspection. 

"My travels were meant to lead me to my kind."

The stubborn tone I'd taken making him click a tongue of amused laughter. 

"Your journey led you exactly where you needed to go, Miss. No more, no less." He turned to place a live rat on heavily loaded table," a 'forest walker' may have left their token here. And you got wind of it. "

The man moved to shirk a talisman out of a small locked stand. The ring shown to me with out being allowed to touch my skin. Noting the way his body was covered. Gloves adorned his hands,  even though the house was too warm for such a thing to be necessary. 

Inspecting the metal. I regarded it's twisted but basic golden shape. Stone set in it an earthy one. Holding deep healing powers, the rock crystal still shone. Its aura hazy, like a half remembered dream. 

"We rarely go anywhere without our talisman," I voiced. Sensing the answer, but not the blunt way in which it hit my ears. 

"Such a thing is useless once dead," The Sedir shut it away once more, " but it is my sense that the conscious spirits are those you wish to connect with. "

"Yes I.... "

"There is not need for you to speak," he motioned, pointing to his forehead with somberness, "everything is in here. My eyes, friends, their scope is far. A knowledge shared."

Animals echoed his sentiment. Their voices raring up in various forms. Skeletal bones moving in robotic manner. Their marrow joined with non exhistant threads. So they could keep their shape and form. Though the gnarled fingers of death had touched them long ago. Enough time for flesh to have fallen away, leaving the barest semblance of life. 

How is it they still moved. Phantoms held to their owner. This Sedir who called them 'friend.'

Skuttling of fright danced around my chest. 

Even the smallest carcasses shook their bodies in small tremours of agreement. Answering their masters tone. Insects chittering alongside their bigger house mates. Rubbing limbs together to make some noise. 

The caws, bleets, barks and bays more than ample agreement. I hardly though it necessary for the man to give back voice to the deceased. 

He chuckled, deep, throaty," you are uncomfortable around the dead. Yet is it not part of you. Do you fear the whispers of your own demon? "

"My.... de.."

Dumbfounded I looked on as he moved to light up a sweet smelling pipe. "I heard them, before you. Singing a song so loud. Those dark passengers. A wish filled in the worst way."

Swallowing back increasing shivers that darted around my brain. He spoke of fears I never aired to anyone. Ridiculous notions that I tried to overcome by throwing myself headlong into their grip. In the hope that the phobia would be quashed. Was that not what even hypnotists advised. Confronting that which scared the most. Own it and cope. Life would get better. But my mind refused the rationality of such a change. 

And that real fear of being alone,  always to the forefront of minds eye. 

"I can lead you to that which you chase," he muttered, " although it is not a path I advise taking.  Water turns, bends. Eats through the land, creates it's own path. Which is what you should do."

Waisting no time, puffing thoughtfully he moved on. 

Weaving his tapestry of visions,  as the overly heated house seemed to get smaller around us. With each breath of that overly persuasive smoke I fell further into dwindling reality. 

Unable to tell truth from fiction. At some stage he stepped out of the living room, returning with others. Those shrouded in hoods. And their chant was too hypnotic. Drowning in intensity. 

The Sedir ebbing in and out of my line of vision. Yet his message was clear. Received with some confusion. 

My people were around. But they had been placed into some form of supernatural witness protection. One name had been grasped from beyond and thrown out with certainty. 

Duchamp. 

Armed with it, and steely resolve I left the house of Sedir behind. 

Wavering with the mixed up knowledge that finally,  after centuries of loneliness.  One person was left stood in the way. Our meeting was not only destiny but a determined phone call away. 


	8. In The Blink Of An Eye

Clicking the kitten heeled boots across hardwood floor, my mind couldn't help darting back to the man that brought me here. A Sedir, who's parting stance played over like a record. 

His final words ringing a small bell,  which chimed gnat-like in a corner. Out of the way but still angling to be heard. 

'This I see, You are not yet ready to be cleansed. When you are, find me.'

'Cleansed,' that sounded like some kind of ritual. One which would involve invasive measures. A complete submersion. 

Possibly even a trip into my head. Which was brimming with too many skeletons. Specters I'd yet to deal with, let alone allow anyone else to see. 

He assumed I needed some kind of readjustment. If and when that day came it was good to know there was an entity such as him waiting in the wings. A service to avail of. 

But for now. Swiveling around the plush surroundings of executive office, facing the next puzzle piece I swallowed.  Let the games begin. 

****

"Mr Duchamp, I'm so glad you could meet with me at short notice," I said smiling politely at the man. 

He was stout, but by no means lazy. A build easily earned from hard work in the gym. A thing probably done in youth but continuously topped up since. An hour or two here or there made all the difference. 

"Oh it's nothing," he said levelly," once you made clear your intentions,  what else could I do? But open my doors. "

There was something off about the way he phrased that. Although that slipped through the cracks of our conversation easily. 

"My intentions? "ears heated up a little. I'd only mentioned that I sought information that's all. 

"I've met with your kind. And they all looked for the same thing from me. Safe enough to assume you chase it too."

My hands fell from where they were folded across my chest. Other Ancients had come to this man for help in starting a new life. Reinvent themselves. That's what the Sedir had eluded to. It was a mistake if he thought I wished to vanish off the face of the earth also. 

But maybe a pretence in this instance would be acceptable. 

"Yes. I suppose so. But just for the sake of it, why don't you tell me how we go about this,  'new persona' you gave them."

"Ah well, "he smiled widely. Cheeks gathered up into a fully rounded grin. Easily making him look ten years younger. "Their request was simple... "

"Go on, " nodding gently in encouragement. 

"The Ancients, "he said lavishly," they both wished one thing." Pausing to take in my inquisitive glance," to be relieved of their affliction."

Cringing as for the umpteenth time my physicality was spoken ill of. Yes, I cursed, constant battle, but affliction? The word associated it with sickness, disease. Mentally draining perhaps, maybe that terminology would be better suited. 

A wash of confusion registering when I processed past the jibe. He helped them get rid of their warring halves, not hide them from peril.  But why? 

"It is easily done," Malcom continued,"exchanging uncertainty for a more stable existence. One only needs the forsight and science to do so. Their lives were spiraling out of control. Becoming dangerous, so I made them an offer..." 

"And did they?...." 

A wonder that aired itself abruptly. Trying to bottle up the seductive notion of peace, respite from constantly bickering body. And those voices that tore into one another. Mr Duchamp broke through those thoughts. 

"Did they, beg me to aid them. Yes," he rose, creaking up from his chair slowly, "which I was happy to do. Freely."

Finding myself chuckling, "freely?"

"I don't seek to benefit from natures misfortunes."

The office and expensive décor shouted otherwise. 

"All of this donated then, "I ambled, pointing to the original Matisse on his wall. 

Clearly pure gold desk ornaments. Exquisite weapons collection, all circa WW1. He had to be getting more than he was admitting to. No one person could amass this collection without serious funding. 

"Greatful clients," he smirked slyly,"of course some items were purchased on the upturn of the property market."

 I nodded in disbelief,"how fortunate for you."

"And you, "he ventured, "would you not like a taste of the freedom they enjoyed. I can arrange that. Here. Today." 

I watched him with weary eyes. Backing the wrong horse there buddy. Whatever temptation presented to be rid of this 'scales', I couldn't agree. This was all I was, everything I'd come to recognise as my very being. 

"Or maybe you want something else, "he wondered aloud," to meet said ex-ancients." My orbs betrayed me, darting to his." ah, so that's a yes. But I can assure you they'd never agree to such a rendezvous with you so 'equipped.' They know the dangers of your being. Why else would they have traded theirs in the first place. Think on it. I have the means to take that bullet away temporarily. You can meet fellow kin. Everyone wins. "

He cast his arms out dramatically, master in command of his own bullpen. 

Lafayette soured me on tasters. Besides time, experience erred on the cautious side. Nothing came without strings, ever. 

"What's the catch?" I snapped. 

Getting annoyed that I was even considering this mans idea in the first place. A power deferred was, after all still power. 

"24hours completely yours no charge," he purred, selling the idea,"then if you wish it to be more...permanent we can arrange the finer details."

So he wasn't too keen on opening up over the schematics. That sent flares up. Warning brightly. 

"Tempting, but sadly I must decline. After all there is still a chance that they won't agree to meet. I can't take that chance. Maybe I could speak to one. Even by phone, you don't have to give me the number. It could be easily done here right from your office." 

My refusal causing the man to narrow his eyes momentarily. 

He shrugged, glancing at the Swiss watch adorning his wrist, " Quite impossible. Mz ballo, this is rather embarrassing, but our conversation needs to conclude. I have other appointments." 

"What? We haven't even began..ten minutes..."

"Are an eternity in business you understand," he cut. 

"How much will it take?" I raged, temper brimming over." You wish me to pay for contact information correct? "

"Now that would be highly inappropriate of me. Confidentiality is at stake. Plus a man of my means has no need to pry money from anyone," he surmised," but I do indeed have prior arrangements. I fit you in as a favour. Maybe next time you wish to speak to me, we do so using that rather lengthy waiting list of mine. Mrs Lennox tells me next April is the earliest spot vacant."

"Its November!"I stammered, finding it hard to believe he had filled his diary until then.

He grinned broadly, shrugging, "I'm in demand what can I say?"

"And what would you have done if I'd agreed to this relinquishing of power?"

His face glimmered with hope, "that would have forced a change of plan. There's contracts, extraction, etcetera....."

"An extraction, whatever for? "

"Well that would be the small print which enables you to our 'free' day offer," Malcom said calmly,  seeing that his honesty was more beneficial," you see, that pocket of essence would have been used."

"Used for what?"

"Whatever the client chooses," he explained," simple things like creating a potion or ointment. Not all have the ability to use magic. They pay for that short privilidge."

I moved awkwardly, repositioning to shift weight onto one leg. Airing my next confusion, "so this meeting of yours. The one which is more important than speaking with me? "

"Actually," he cleared his throat,"the two happy instances entertwine. Excuse my forwardness but foolishly I presumed you would partake my offer. I set up a suitable receptor. "

My mouth fell open with the thought of how quickly one could be found to make use of magic. Was there a long waiting list or what? 

"Very sure of yourself," trust a business man to never shy away from a golden opportunity, "So how did you choose. Lucky dip, or bidding war?"

"Its simple, I have a lucrative market. And a client particularly eager to meet and discuss 'this' particular said stock. Not just witch but that little bit more bite."

"Stock?" I questioned peering around the immaculate apartment. Not a box in sight. It appeared his only marketable items from this room were ill gotten ones. 

He poured a glass of expensive Chardonnay swirling it in contemplation before answering, 

"You see, the last of any race, or even the sparse remains always demands such interest. Much like the tusks and furs of endangered species. Not that I would lower myself to dealing in animals." 

Wrinkling his nose at the very though.

"But trafficking humans is all that more sophisticated," I spat. 

I mean come on. What the hell kind of business did he run? Eager to leave via the closest exit. I was not one for people trade. Slave or otherwise.

Something about this exchange stunk of foulness. 

Gesturing for me to sit, before ignoring my folded arms and lounging back in a leather armchair.

His office door was curtly knocked on.

The very well put together assistant Mrs Lennox entered, bearing a silver tray, "Mr Duchamp your appointments here. Shall I have him step in, "eyes regarding me dismissively, "or perhaps wait?  I can open the Scharzhofberger. "

My mouth instantly watering at the mere thought of the Muller-Scharzhof rarety. He was sparing no expense for his expectant guest. The last time I'd seen that vintage it was being auctioned off up to the six thousand plus range. 

Pressing fingertips together, the mans hands mashed together decidedly, "no thats not necessary. Have him join us."

Querying where he was going with this, attention on this shady businessman and that strangely covered tray on the table. It was about the size of a serving one but whatever contents remained hidden under a cream calico type of material. 

Sniffing inquisitively I could find no exact aroma to give any information away. 

Malcom spoke up, "Mz Ballo, I rarely allow donors and recipients to meet. Can become tricky. But in this instance if you see the beneficiary it may expedite things considerably."

Folding my arms once more, he obviously had no idea how stubborn I could be given half the chance. 

'What about finding your people?'

'You're so close. '

'Are you gonna let a blip like this destroy that chance?'

All valid arguments, mouths battling on in my mind. What difference could another few minutes actually make. Especially if at the end I could leave here with invaluable information. 

Maybe a compelled Filofax or two. Wouldn't that just destroy his stupid 'confidentially' clause altogether. I'd a niggling suspicion a few names in there had been cohersed to give 'stock' up. 

****** 

"Wait here," came an all too familiar voice. Muffled, sneaking through the door frame before Mrs Lennox showed him into the room. "Enjoy the pastries, I happen to know they're from an exquisite bakery."

"Please, this way," the assistants voice thrilled. Elegantly manicured hand leading him forward, "Mr Duchamp, Mr Mikaleson has arrived."

My face literally froze. Uncovered shock painted on my 'o' of a mouth. It hung partially open. 

What the hell was he doing here? This could not seriously be the next appointment. 

"Sorry to have kept you," Malcom said striding over to clasp Niklaus extended hand. 

The smile was sly, a toying one, "I had good company. Your seceratary is quite charming. "

Her lips spread into an easy grin, blushing slightly under his gaze.

"That she is,"her boss said suggestively. Clearing his throat. He wished her to get back to work, a hint which she didn't miss.

Giving a slight bow, leaving as politely as she came,"if there's anything else you need, please don't hesitate."

Satisfied that we were now free to talk minus assistants ears, an uneasy static hung around us. Only kicked into normalcy when our host got his game face on. Buyer beware. He looked set to sell sand to the desert. 

"Cigar?"Malcom offered gesturing to a chair. Walking over to retrieve a wooden box from his cabinate. 

"I'm afraid I don't partake, "Niklaus replied opening the button of his suit jacket. A move so similar to his brothers. "But please don't abstain on my account."

He was, for now ignoring my squinted, angled face. Passing directly in front of my feet. Sending what smelt like an entire bottle of woody Cologne wafting over the air. 

Casually sitting in the offered chair, twisting his head slightly to finally speak to me, "are you going to stand there forever?"

The incredulous huff of expelled air I spat out making him smirk. 

"Seriously....Niklaus"

"Oh," Malcom said mid snip,  silver cutter halting on Columbia tobacco, "do you know each other? "

The hybrid licked his lip smoothly before answering,"I have met Mz Ballo before. We move in similar circles. Is that not the case?"

Chuckling dryly,"I suppose you could say that."

Clicking heels over to regard him heatedly. Choosing to stand by the desk of supposed business man Duchamp. 

Pulling a long drag of his cigar, Malcom seemed reassured, "that's perfect. No better match than two clients who can attest to one another's character. This should help with your decision. "

The mans face beamed at me. Puzzled that I didn't return his comfort. 

"Mr Mikaelson has been on my list for quite some time," he continued as if to convince my compliance, "would you really deny an acquaintance their only chance of magic?"

I sniped curtly, "hardly his 'only' a chance. Niklaus is more than familiar with witches. "

"Ah but none of them with your power," the hybrid cut in. Pulling imaginary hair off his trouser leg. "Is it not lucky to find you here of all places," he spread his palms out, in usual theatricals, "this is some happy fate."

'Oh sure it is' the daggered look spiking his way was all I needed to convey my anger. 

He was too smug. Resistance burning in Mikaelson eyes. What did he seek, acalade for finding this building? This town. If my extensive searching since Merets claim was anything to go by, the Sedir even this man Malcolm Duchamp were easy enough to come by. Mr Duchamp was hardly in hiding. His name was everywhere. A tycoon, by his own paid spin. 

Riches had come easy for the man, who under guise of property entrepreneur was doing something less acceptable. I had come here because of the Sedirs prediction. 

Malcom knew of ancients. Was in touch with a couple who were currently hiding from the world. If I wished any contact with them he was the man to see. 

Those unique sights had warned that what I sought may not be all charming and bright. I came ready for bad news. But nothing. Not a damn thing could have prepaired for this subterfuge.

The originals appearance ment one thing alone. I had been quite cleverly duped. 

Curiosity snared this particular cat. Gritting teeth in confidence, these men encountered no little kitten. By all means this was a lioness ready to shed her guise. The correct timing was all that was left to decide. Finding out what exactly was going on here number one on my list of priorities. 

****

A contract was shirked out of an important looking brown folder. Pushed my way gingerly by a now seated Malcom. 

"Why don't you peruse this a moment," he said, turning attention to his desk and that hidden tray. Swiping the material off briskly. 

Ignoring the parchment, drawn rather to the unearthed contents. Gleaming in sterile goodness. 

"What the hell is that?" eyeing the double silver needle affair and the archaic vial/ plunger attached to it. 

Anxiety sending a surge around my body. Preparing to arm myself. A zip of whiteness churned around my fingertips. That was surreal. My magic seemed dimmed. Dizzying even. 

"An enzime," he smiled, "to keep your blood in a state of suspended animation. Quite an intricate affair but effective I assure you."

"Why suspended?" feeling the weight of my talisman burning onto my chest. 

Knowing my mothers blood was there. Also in some kind of 'altered' state, thanks to whatever tricks had been envoked centuries ago. My heartbeat thunked loudly against it. 

"Keeps the contents fresh, living, so they can be further used..."

"For what, if I've given my powers away. Why the need??"

Panic setting in as my attempt to encant was met with emptyness. Trying to ready myself to right whatever notions flew through his head. 

"There is an extraction process," he snapped, "just in case you should change your mind. Like a fall back, plan B. You can be summoned, manipulated or even consumed if the party sees fit."

My jaw hung open, "well that's hardly cause for me to agree to anything."

Wanting to add, 'not that I've actually given the go ahead anyway.'

Malcom was working on autopilot. Examining the contraption and adding parts to it. Keeping the ungodly unit clean by donning some latex gloves. 

"Don't worry my dear, the seal will only be broken if you renage on the deal. Keep your word and everyone will be perfectly safe."

As if knowing one couldn't even survive a day minus your usual powers. Were other Ancients that keen to take their back after a mere few hours without it? 

Vaguely aware Mr Duchamp was showing off for his company, trying to get me on side with all these confessions. Ease the transition. But I sought only one more answer from him.

"Preposterous, once added its near impossible to remove anything from blood...."

How could anyone use tainted essence. Surely whatever compound he was adding changed the very build of the essence. 

Niklaus clicked forward, "this is all very comforting I'm sure, time is moving. And my friends in Munich expect a call before 12. Nothing is signed. Obviously our alliance and backing is not needed."

"Hold on," he panicked rushing to stop the hybrids move to leave. "She will sign. Won't you? Think of it, a chance to meet former Ancients face-to-face..."

So much for his original plan that his 'client' would help me with my decision. The hybrid had sat wordlessly watching our conversing, as if it were a show put on just for him. 

Staring around the room once more weighing up my options. "Who is to acquire my essence once the deed is done?"

"Her name is unimportant, "came Niklaus sharp response. 

Her??

"Then your buyers can go to hell, good look finding another ancient..."

Having enough of this insanity. Mouth blurted out my rebuke quickly. Hybrid zipped to my side snarling. He glared at me. Eyes ablaze with impatience.

A clink of metal upon metal signalled Mr Duchamps sudden fright. Clearly unprepared for a confrontation. Jumping to diffuse it. 

"Woah now, remember she hasn't put mark on paper yet."

We faced off. Taking a deep angry breath I pulled deep. Latin coursing through my mind. To hell with both of them. All I had to do was weaken Niklaus and force Malcom to give up his contacts. 

Grabbing my upper arm he yanked me towards the businessman. 

"What the...... "confusion overtaking temper at being manhandled. My spells weren't working. Nothing, not even a zip funneled through. 

"Sorry dear,"the gloved man explained simply, "one always must take proper precautions."

His simmering eyes wandered upwards.  I followed their trajectory. 

Oh no! 

Shutting my lids in self disgust. Painted on the ceiling, with what looked like sacrificial blood, was a witches trap. Neatly done. Wording complete in it's message. 

This was a magic free zone. In fact, worse a supernatural free zone. Whatever strengths either myself or the hybrid had immortal wise were null and void in this circle. 

"Strap in love, "Niklaus muttered, "it'll be a long ride if your going to be obstinate. "

Tightening a band around my arm, Malcom proceeded to draw blood. Struggling against the combined hold of both men as it was sucked out. 

Flinching in pain as the needle scraped along skin and bone in the process. 

"There," he breathed, showing the red contents to Niklaus proudly, "that's all we need."

Panting from the exhersion to try and get free I spat back,"as usual. You get what you want."

Released suddenly I jerked out of the seat. Pent up like a cornered animal would be. Ready to lash out. 

"It was always a done deal," he answered, inspecting the vial. Passing it back to Malcom, the man continued packaging and altering my essence.

"So this is how to get your answers?" I pressed, "literally cut it out of me. Who is going to use that magic? Some fresh out of high school witch. It's unstable...."

He shrugged blue orbs loosing interest in my plight. I was trying to warn that pigheaded psychopath. Not that it should be necessary given the confession about Meadonforth. And that bloody whiptide if a storm.  He'd witnessed the magnitude of the chaos. 

"Are we about ready?"

Snapping off the plastic, Mr Duchamp binned his gloves. Moving over to run his lightly powdered hands under a faucet in the adjoining room. 

"There is the tiny matter of her signature."

Niklaus sighed, "is that really of consequence at this stage?"

The man nodded,"if you wish the deal complete, absolutely. It is the way we work. You know witches, always such sticklers for the details."

Angling my jaw gritting, "I'll never sign.... You cannot force me to freely commit name to that damn paper.. "

Malcolm tutted, waving a dismissive hand, "no, no it must be sealed with blood. "

Bringing over the white sheet towards hybrid grasp. Niklaus swiftly strode the three footfalls to my form. Unable to defend myself in any other way I grabbed up a sharp letter opener. 

"Don't come any closer.... "

Malcolm snickered,"today's just not your day."

Momentarily distracted by the business man's taunt, the weapon was pulled from my grip. Cutting my palm as it pried free.

Feeling drips flow down my digits, Niklaus securely held my wrist. 

A helplessness washed over me. Stripped of immortality the man was stronger. Attempting to wriggle free was pointless. Watching in a sweep when the parchment passed my line of distraught sight

"Camille O Connell!" choking out abruptly, reading the calligraphed name on the contract out loud. Pulling my thumb away from the paper. Only by millimeters. But still enough to leave it unmarked. 

Shocked beyond belief. I was expected to give my abilities to her. Even for a day.... 

"Now love no time for cold feet, " Niklaus jarred grabbing tighter. Further attempt to place blood to the blank space. 

"You don't know what you're doing," I spat, struggling against his iron grip. Blue orbs caught mine momentarily. 'I'm not alone in here,'

Venomous thoughts aimed at him. Holding that unwavering gaze as his lips parted, squinting slightly. Had he heard that? My inner monologue.

Was I able to converse with hybrid as I'd done with a purely vampiric Eric? 

"Well I'm sure Camille will figure it out. I'll hardly leave her to handle things 'alone'." 

The punctuation of his final word telling me, it was the case. Mission successful. It was entirely possible to talk with his genetic mix too. Subconsciously, if only he'd just listen. 

Pressing my print onto the white sheet firmly, he finally let go. 

Finding myself drained, literally dropped to the floor. Niklaus Mikaelson had what he desired. Surplus stock disguarded. 

Blinking slowly, staring into nothingness. I heard him leave. Passing some form of payment to the smug businessman. 

"May he enjoy that temporary fix," the whisper meant to quell my own shock at what had just transpired. Trying to envoke calm. 

Malcom slouched back into that squeaky leather of his. 

"Ah my dear,"he sneered, "for a loaner we just needed your word, and those little drops of essence. This is contractual."

My eyes shot to his, "but you said.... "

"I explained the small test of Ancient suppression,"he got up throwing a copy of the vile deed my way, "this is a more permanent affair. The signing over of ones abilities. "

My mouth moved as goldfish,  formulating words," the fail safe, that plan B.... "

"Is inconsequential at best. Try not to worry about it. That's how you get wrinkles."

I was wrong, cursing the previous bravado. I should have ran from this place. Not lingered with hopes of twisting fate my way. A few moments could change everything. How shortsighted that confidence had left me. 

And Karma kept her steady tide flowing, overlapping herself.  This was what was demanded. After all the death caused in that sleepy little town. 

All it took was my abilities for her to be appeased. 

Until round two rolled around that is. Dread setting in. The scales of justice weren't quite done with me yet. Their sentence cloudy but swinging, hang mans noose tightening. 

Dragging myself up wearily to stand. 

'Let us meet head on. I won't cower from you, fate if I'm to be beaten, perish. May it be swinging sword not bowed on bended knees.'


	9. Chez Gustaf

Jostling around I attempted to grip onto anything to steady myself. Straining to see in the dusty slivers of light. It smelt of bodies. As in scared, living people. 

Pure filth and sweat. Using a knee to propel upwards. Sitting. Twisting my jaw around to get feeling back. It was numb, wet and uncomfortably chilly. Bad ache clouding from between shoulder blades. 

Bumped around in this semi darkness, orbs continued to adjust. A dread crept through chest. Rope bit into my wrists. Knowing the brand was cheap but heavy duty. Commonly used to lash down tarp so it wouldn't fly free in winds. Made for the long haul demanded of it. But why was the darn thing binding something as flimsy as humans. 

The engine revved, sending me spiraling leftwards, into a startled woman. 

Our gaze meeting under the haze caused in the confines. If I wasn't mistaken we were in a vehicle. Not just any small one, quite a spacious lorry. Squeaks of crates under pressure met my ears. 

Sounded secure enough. Judging by the sloshing liquid. It was some kind of alcohol delivery truck. 

What in the hell? 

Malcom Duchamp had cast me out of his office unceremoniously, asking security to make sure I didn't re-enter. 

Cursing under my breath, he had my damn identification. Purse, money. 

Those questionably dressed men he'd called on were obviously not office staff. How I'd actually ended up here a blur. 

Did I? Had he drugged me? 

Scanning my surroundings in urgency, my look of unease caught the woman's attention. 

She looked panicked, "don't scream. They'll... " 

Choking, before failing to contain her weeps. Sobs rocking out, causing her to loose breath fast. 

"Shhh,"a young male tone came from somewhere to the back of the enclosure. Seeing a form partially hidden by boxes, "stop tears. Now, yes? "

His english was broken, but held the same fright that skittled amount us. Frenzied whispers of another man joined him. They conversed almost soundlessly in what seemed like Slavic tongue. Arguing over getting involved with us. It spelt bad tidings for them if caught.

Glad that I could at least understand a majority of the content. The rest could be guessed at. Men falling into strained quiet.

Ignoring them to concentrate on the person closest to me. 

"What's your name?" my whisper not quite stalling the sobbing but slowing it down. 

"We're going to die, " she went off on a tangent, " we're going to d... "

"Hey," I said.Trying not to let her repetition get out of hand. Could drag us all down. Create hysteria. It was unnerving enough. Bound in unknowns. Survival was planned by thinking. 

Smiling off handed when Pam shot to mind, 'loosing ones shit accomplishes squat.'

True. And if this woman thought we were in fact at deaths door, following my nestmates astute attitude would be more beneficial. 

"Names Alicia, "I prodded introducing myself. 

Tears webbing through dirt, she sniffed, "Sally. "

Nodding, good that was a start. Shaky but we had to begin somewhere. 

Giving the strawberry blond a weak smile, "don't worry Sally. We'll find a way out of this. Long as we stick together, okay?"

Her wavering crescent showed a hidden strength. 

"No talk,"came the low hastened breath of the young man. He was leaning over as best be could to see us," they beat. No good, they, no good."

Distinguishing tonal differences between the duo. One who wished to help,  the other wanted to bury his head in the sand. Couldn't let our resident do-gooder down. 

"Okay," I responded keeping the same level. Something told me he'd already witnessed our captors wrath. Leaning my head back onto a wooden crate sighing lowly. 

How in the hell had things gone so bloody wrong. Flexing my strained hands and fingers. Unhappy reminder that no magic would spark from them. 

To hell with Sedirs, Duchamps, Mikaelsons, the whole dang lot of them! 

Was it really so hard to just attempt to find others like me. Did Karma have to kick me in the proverbial nuts all the time. 

Rolling my eyes, shaking head slowly in surrender.

'Apparently so honey, apparently so.'

****

It was best for us to remain silent. Crossing through checkpoints. Prayers that we would be found amounting to nothing. Border control paid off or turning a blind eye to avoid the added paperwork immigrants entailed.

So here I was after fighting with Gustaf, and his right hand cronie Angal. They had wanted to blast me with a hose, no better than an animal. 

Well good luck with that. 

My insolence earning a few fists to the kidneys. The hit angled precicely so as not to mark. 

Pulling at this dress top with aphrension I eyed the glassy room. It's marble like floor reflecting dull lighting. Mirrored surfaces all around. Unable to turn without seeing myself staring back.

Feeling a sick pit forming in my stomach. This was a dancers booth. Reserved for the more seedy client. It wasn't my first foray seeing such a place. But knowing I was expected to perform, be 'entertainment', that was a field I didn't wish to navigate. 

Scratching at the bump on the back of my neck. Discomforted by soreness emanating from there. Healing was taking a bit too long. Still it served to remind me that we were in fact alive.

The music stalled intercom bursting into life. 

"Leave it," Gustaf ordered harshly,"you dance, or I send Cedric down."

Fuming my eyes scanned the small surrounding. Catching a small flickering dot of red, blinking away silently. Damn place had cameras! 

"Bring him on," I taunted, turning my back to the thing. Looking the floor with mock interest. More or less to see if there were also microphones,"puffed up bag of wind."

Nothing, no rebuttal. Nor rush of vengeance. There was a slim chance, if speaking low enough you may not be heard. Small mercy I guess.

Of course the owners wanted to make sure we did as bidded. Their eyes wouldn't lie, whereas people were prone to bending the truth to suit their needs.

Warning zapp from the device in my neck startled a quiver of nerves around my body. I had succeeded in removing the first one the implemented.

Disgusted at the small, yet dangerous contraption. A battery sized cylinder, that could be remotely controlled, accessed without you knowing it. Not until a fizz of electricity, or poison shot through your veins. Placed in a prime spot under skin. Not obvious but intrusive nonetheless. 

A clever way to keep people in control to say the least. 

Being equal parts stubborn and stupid. I'd pryed one out, despite the pain. Stomping on it for good measure, after taking chance to survey it. Deftly made. Intricate in it's horrendously superb nature. 

A baby compared to what replaced it. This version didn't merely electrocute the nervous system. It was rigged with a lethal combination of syanide plus rycin. Just to be sure of the desired result. Kind of old school chemical wise, but why mess with what had been tried and tested a hundred times before.

Thinking sarcastically, 'Good old KGB'. It had been a popular 'go to' for them. Rycin. No antidote had been found to date for that particular concoction. 

This device was Cedric's version '2.O', work fast beginning on the next generation of manipulation. 

Shuffling around the booth in spaghetti strapped stilettos my mind became drawn to Shreveport and Fangtasia. Surely Eric wondered what'd happened. I kept a semi regular contact with them throughout the trip so far. 

Did he not question why the interaction had stopped?

Pulling hair behind my ear with agitation. Feeling even less like myself. Mere hours ago, had a bucket of water tossed over me. Some small bar of soap and cheap dry shampoo cast my way. Ordered to clean up.

For this? To parade as meat on dinner tray? 

My body may be free of filth but not soul. Cheapened by being here, forced to do the unspeakable. Dressed, dolled and to the best of their ability 'groomed.'

'Uuhhhh!'

'Could this get any worse?'

Peering at the ensemble with disgust. Gustaf had picked a ridiculous skimpy top. It was a long cut affair but hardly passed for the dress he assumed it was. Feet squashed into heels at least half a size too small. The curse of having no choice in footwear. It was instilled that we all share and swap around the sparce shoes purchased by the owners of this hellish business. 

At least they had the fortitude to let us wear our own undergarments. 

Rolling eyes towards the ceiling upon hearing a second request to 'dance'. 

I began moving slightly. How were they to know if they'd acquired seasoned dancer or not? Grabbing us from virtual obscurity, should be thankful what they got. 

Music started up again, almost loosing out to robotic thoughts. Doing a half baked twirl here or there. Theorising how to could escape this place. I needed to get myself, and at least four people out with me. 

All girls. Heavens knew where the two men ended up, but they certainly weren't here in this dive. Maybe sold on as some kind of mules who could tell.

Startling slightly, music stopped long enough to announce," Desirée you're up."

Body freezing madly. Rooted where I stood. A sick feeling forced my heart to skip lurchingly.

That was me. 

Having not bothered with much choice in naming. They used aliases as a way to distinguish one 'preformer' from the other. Picking the rather dingy 'Desirée' title as mine.

Spent too much time watching daytime TV reality shows. That was for damn sure. 

Running shaky hands through hair, I scrunched my eyes shut hoping the floor would disappear. Taking me with it. Hearing through dizzying thumps the door open in the far corner.

Avoiding it's temptation, by not peering at it. An exit stratagem which hadn't been properly analyzed. Charging out would be a bust. All Cedric had to do was push a button and I'd be rendered somewhat incapacitated. What ever concoction concealed in this damn device would work on my mortal half. Maybe destroy it. Kill that end off. Power stolen from me, how much fight could I actually put up. 

Not much if previous forays with these brutes was anything to go by. Hadn't even consumed a drop of blood since being tossed out of that damn office into their clutches. Hard to rely on weakened abilities, no matter how old I actually was. 

I'd relied too heavily on my witch side. Neglected vampiric tendacies. Which was blatantly beginning to show. My compulsion was off whack. Without crimson elixir, only mortal means seemed to present themselves. 

Pushing past, attempting to run was ridiculous. Acting out now, if successful, served one thing. Another play at insolence. It would irk them, nothing more. Recon not properly constructed, I would be running the risk of being blindsided. 

Wouldn't be able to help free the girls either. Which was another thing that plagued the forefront of mind. 

No, another course of action needed to present itself. 

Until then. Gulping in frustration, I would have to endure.

And pray to heaven that whatever 'services' requested, were not too invasive. Or some poor smuck may very well loose their manhood and/or ability to procreate. 

I'd happily take a beating from these idiots if it meant keeping my body intact. 

'"Desirée is one of our best. You're in good hands," Gustaf announced.

Holding the frame open for someone behind him. Clamping jaw tightly, lest I retort to the contrary. Staying focused on one thing, the chair in front of me. Hating it. Cursing the inanimate object for the part it would take in this new humiliation. Not wanting to face the smarmy male who was to inhabit it just yet. 

Heavy rock/pop slicing through any thoughts. Flaming Cedric must be deaf. Couldn't even hear myself think.

"Thank you," came out in low response. 

Barely heard over gradually blaring music. Fingers biting into the arms of the seat. 

Gustafs heavily smokers breath rasped harshly into my ear,"this one gets the full treatment."

Stammering with some temper, I dared to glare at this jailor,"full treatment being?"

His eyes dipped with innuendo,"the whole thing. Whatever the client demands. He's paid quite rewardingly.'' 

Fighting bile,"and if I refuse?"

He grinned showing tarnished teeth," then Cedric gets the honor. He prefers a fighter."

Cedric was a wall. A keen tormenter. Loving to use fists to make a point no matter how small. I could take him. 

"Oh," Gustaf added, noticing a glimmer of defiance flit across my face," and he really likes that little blond. Seems to be a screamer. You can't watch over her always. Understand." 

My heart sunk, defeated. Nodding reluctantly. 

Me, I could manage their fists. Bite back blow for blow, but her. Unquestionable. 

Its an achilles heel they somehow latched onto. Forgetting how much sunk into Gustafs cold eyes. A sponge to everything. No matter how small. 

Bloody freak, of course he'd noticed Sally. A girl who clung to me. Gripping hand tight through the iron of cage each time the men entered holding room. Distressed and vulnerable. I fought for her. Drawing attention away from the woman with outbursts of verbal temper. If hands were dealing with me, she would be safe enough. 

My compliance being ensured right now, by threatening the worse thing possible. Gifting her to his horrible partner. I couldn't do that. Be cause of her suffering. That man was a monster. 

Dimmed orbs, ducking my chin down. He saw acceptance of my fate. Bile growing all the more.

Trembling with temper, I would, no, 'had' to obey. 

"There," Gustaf announced. Backing away from close vicinity to acknowledge his customer,"Desirée is raring to go. Relax my friend. She's a pro."

All exit sealed off by the clicking shut of door. Steeling up, I took a few shaky inhales. Goodbye dignity.

"Make yourself comfortable, sweetie," struggling to push out the last word.

Electrical zip warningly fizzling from the device. Running a palm across the seat with distraction. 

Lids downcast. 

Maybe avoiding eye contact would work for now. The client obviously an upscale one judging the well polished shoes that scuffed across shiny floor.

'Well I guess it takes all sorts.'

"Desirée," they said. Aware now of tell tale, undisputed accent,"what a beautiful name."

Eyes shot to steadfast blue ones. 

Flaming Niklaus Mikaelson. 

Quelling the urge to rush over and slap him. Hit the original repeatedly for the part he had taken in this downfall. This hellish place I'd been forced to endure since his departure. 

'Damn cameras!!' reminding myself why such a recourse would be detrimental. They would enforce their threats. These captors of mine. Others would suffer. Mainly Sally. 

"You've a bloody cheek," I responded lowly instead. Moving away from the chair as he approached. 

What the hell was he doing here? Hating to admit that I was glad to see a familiar face, even if it belonged to the man who had 'wronged' me. Anyone would have been better.

Even bloody Bill Compton stood as an improvement!  Anyone but the original hybrid. 

Face betraying nothing. His orbs almost blank. Ignoring my accusatory remark. Unbuttoning tailored jacket, he cast quick look around us. 

Taking in the cameras. Expertly hidden in guise of lights, encased in Plexiglas along the corners of window like ceiling. Twitching his wrist, weighing up a plan no less. 

'Damnit,' cursing, clicking towards him quickly.

That look meant one thing. He was intending to be reckless. Yet, he didn't know the lay of this land. Too much hung in the balance.

Giving my approach a curious flick of blue. 

He smirked,"best in the business?"

"You decide,"I said thinly, facing the camera's, letting those morons lip read if they could.

Tone about as airy as someone annoyed possibly could muster. Under bite slicing through curtness. Running hands up along his sleeved arms, blocking their view.

Giving the original a push to sit, whispering,"they have the place on lock down."

Casting orbs over my face, he responded lowly. Copying my level," is that so? I think I'll manage."

Glaring at him heatedly. Not given the way they had rigged us up. Stupid to believe they were lax with other matters," Oh I really doubth that."

I was not his daughter, or family so how much care had been put into this arrival was questionable at best. 

If it hadn't been for his untoward behaviour, I would be out among real Ancients, instead of here in some people selling nightmare. 

No way I could begin to forget the trail of events that lead here, to this exact moment. Left weaker than a slumbering infant after the contract signing, Mr Duchamp had relieved me of not only passport but everything of monetary value. Not even factoring in the stealing of my essence. That was a different matter altogether. 

Then these gems showed up. Angal and Gustaf. Having to postpone pleasure of meeting Cedric until we arrived here.

All made for an interesting week. Time I would never get back, and although immortal, he would pay dearly for every stolen second. With interest. 

Intense spasm running down my spine, balling my fists tightly. Fighting an urge to scream. Shock waves ran from the device once more. 

'Christ, that was a high one!' 

Voltage amped higher up than usual. 

The lack of dancing on their screen, no doubt making our duo of Gustaf and Cedric nervous. For what could I possibly be telling the man. Impossible for them to hear over the din created by music.

"Ali...?" he queried, seeing the sudden change. As pain whipped through. Shirking to get up. 

I shook my head warningly, rushed. They must remain unaware that we knew each other, "it's  nothing."

Forcing myself to twirl, twist a bit. Anything to show a form of movement. Keeping time with the infuriating beat of tune. Let those idiots think what they would about my lack of coordination. 

I'd happily spill Gustafs blood. Smear Cedrics tastefully alongside. Nothing would give me more pleasure. These particular mortals would tip any scales off balance, but surely evil needed ending. They had the stamp of the devil in their hearts. Let them meet their diety. 

Vengeance blinding me momentarily. 

Jerking back to reality, hands clasped my wrists. Niklaus pulled me closer to him, positioning such that we were inches from one another. Stood precariously between his splayed knees.

"I will get you out of here," he stated. Rage bubbled under the surface of my skin. Giving it a wash of red. 

He wished to act as savior? Here? What a poor excuse for previous bad behavior. 

"They're watching," I reminded, leaning on the relative safety of the back of the chair.

"I'm aware," his words made while clasping hips tight, "hence the show."

Creating a flurry of nerves to dice through the pit of my stomach. Well damn if he didn't smell like freedom itself. Of fresh evening air with a wild Spicebomb undertone. An entirely new fragrance, which nostrils thrilled at. In all it's Viktor&Rolf manly goodness. 

Blue eyes holding mine, lips began to hover over the flesh of my forearm. 

Breath deepening. I readjusted. This was becoming too real too fast. My stupid body being drawn to touch. His blasted aura. Why'd he have to shake things up now. 

Really this was the last thing either of us needed. 

"Whats your plan?" I muttered.

Moving out of hybrid grasp to stand behind him. Trailing hands down his chest, keeping up the pretence. Registering a tense hitch beneath jumper. Flesh acknowlinging rub against material. 

Leaning back in the chair, he coarsed a hand up the back of my neck.

Stubble grazing my jaw,"kill them all."

Fighting the dash of anxious pleasure it's presence brought.

"No. You can't ...they tagged me," I said,"its right there."

"What," he quipped tentatively.

Not expecting that response. Clearly information which hadn't factured into 'masterplans'. Mild passage of irritation, plodding across fast thinking face. These men were more resourceful than he'd given credit.

"There's a cylinder," I said, "just to your left... don't," halting to give attention to inspecting skin on mine. Fearful that he may inadvertently set the device off," don't press on it."

Digits skimming over still healing flesh. Stitches forming a criss-cross where Cedric hastily rejoined it days ago.

Cursing under his breath,"can it be removed?"

"No," I hushed in annoyance," did that last time. They wised up." 

Clicking his tongue in mirth. Pleased at my simple act of defiance.

"Heat trigger this time."

The moment it was seperated from flesh untold actions would be set in motion. 

Cedrics face had glowed, heartily laughing with the thoughts of impending death. Explaining the mechanisms to me as he pulled needle through ripped skin. Really proud of his handiwork. He was the only one who knew how to remove this horrible thing safely. Or so he claimed. Whatever school of crazy taught him sure did a good job. Leaving no stone unturned.

Taking a strong hold Niklaus pulled again. Making me stumble round to face him. Heels teetering in a wobbly manner.

"And, what does it do exactly?" he simmered. 

"Dont wish to find out," answering distracted, watching his hand change it's trajectory," not till everyone's safe." 

Trailing fingers up my thigh, flicking suggestively at hem of my top. 

'Oh come on,' I chided inwardly. Shooting a dirty look his way. Playing with flames would get you incinerated. 

Lounging back, hands resting across hybrid lap. Cheek dimpled, accompanying a raised brow. He was damn well taking this too far. 

Must the show go on? 

Surely a plan presented itself in diabolical mind by now. Did I need to be demeaned anymore? 

There was a possibility that the clowns running this place had grown weary. Turned attention to something other than the abysmal monitor in front of them. A slim chance. 

But just in case, I seethed, 'keep up the bloody charade.'

Feeling heated with embarrassed surges. I played coyly with the garment. Allowing brief peeks of flesh through mini kan-kan-esque type moves. Not kicking out, just moving as if performing the dance with material alone. Adding a saucy hinted dip or two, mimicking dancers from Fangtasia. 

Knowing that the girl boxer type pants were not normally chosen for 'sultry' undergarments made me slightly happier. Hardly 'turn-on' garments. 

It annoyed the owners of this business which was always a bonus. Not like 'class' was something they should be worried about in such a dump. 

Pupils drowning out blue. It took an age for the hybrid to look at me. 

Grabbing harshly at my bottom. I gasped, unsuspecting. Destabilized. Veins fizzling to life. Taken aback, chest lurching. 

"Niklaus take it easy!" hissed warningly, finding myself straddling his thighs.

"Prime customer,"he recalled, lest I'd forgotten,"its expected."

Hands slinking up to pull me down further onto him.

"Do me a favour," I murmured, as his mouth came into brief contact with dimpled flesh of cleavage. Hating myself for enjoying the brash, forced exchange. "Come up with something quickly," sighing, when he grunted,"I'm sure as hell not spending another second here."

Mumbled response, vibrating warmly against my skin. Nipping my bottom lip I fought not to arch towards it. Demand more. This was not the time or place. Nor he a person exactly in my good books. 

Niklaus was nuzzling in that earth stopping way on throat. Adjusting ever so slightly, heart frenzied upon feeling solidity from his crotch.

"You're enjoying this," I accused heatedly. 

Dashing a hand through to grip fist full of long hair, he pulled. Forcing my neck to be exposed fully to wandering lips. Exhaling in a flurry of spiked excitement, giving the exact response he wanted. Niklaus pointed out my own emotions.

"And you're not?"

"Get me bloody out of here now," I stammered," or has the well of hybrid plotting run dry."

Casting amused glance upwards, he uttered unforgivable words," oh I've been prepared since stepping into this place." Getting smugger continuing," there's three men. Five captives. Place rigged with all kinds of technological looking gizmos. Most of them store bought dummies. And only three of these devices," he leveled, touching the ridge of implanted torture. "All locked onto the belt of a certain Angal."

Jutting my chin in disbelief I snarled, pulse racing with anger and adrenaline combined,"what the hell was all this in aid of then?"

Tracing eyes over my exposed flesh in a leisurely way, he measured," well love. I need you to collapse."

"You could have...."

"Now," the demand harsh. Teamed with almost metallic features. Hybrid clicking into precise action. Pushing us both up onto our feet in one steady motion. 

"This isn't over," I sniped, giving what was hopefully a very believeable, if understated faint. 

Hive of activity approached the room. Shuffling of more than one body. They'd been watching all along. Bloody degenerates. 

"Stay down," Niklaus ordered.

Still fuming from his goddamned games. Who on earth did this man think he was?

"You bas....," Gustafs voice arched into a shout of pain. Bones shattered. Nothing like a clean break, more so a splintering sound. 

"Oh shit!"

There were squeaks of rubber. Sneakers across floor. Heavyset but hurried.

"Such vulgarity," Niklaus sniped following with ease, catching the man up," and with ladies present..."

"Only whores," came Cedrics snide responce,"wrong place for ladies..."

Bloody shoes I cursed, attempting to wrangle free of them. Jumping as a shot rang out. Crisp, bouncing off walls, microphoned echoes. 

Hell, was that the mad scientist? I had seen the revolver he carried. Questioned wheither the thing was for show of actually loaded.

"Oh mate," the hybrid drawled," I was going to go easy on you. No fear of that now." 

The slight undercurrent of malice telling me the man must have succeeded in hitting him. Maybe only grazing the vampire but whatever it was, too ample to excite level headed judgement.

"What the fuck are you?" Cedric hollered, emptying the full clip. Clicking the trigger methodically, as if hoping another shot would magically appear in the barrel. " Devil!! Die already!"

Niklaus laughed cheerily," believe me, I'm a whole lot worse."

Hearing blood splatter and whips of doors swinging, I rushed to my feet. Finally freed of small footwear. 

Chest throbbing, please say he's alive. Cedric knew how to deal with these damn devices. The original was aware of that. Surely he kept the idiot alive, at least till they were safely removed.

Bare soles slipping in the slick pool of red that was creeping under door crack. I pulled, but the thing wouldnt give. Shoving with all my might. Tbere was a body on the other side. Impeding exit. 

"Come on, come on.....come on," chiding myself for pityful attempt at opening the frame. 

Putting my back into it. Body aching with worry and exhaustion. Bruising shoulder and spine alike, squeezing out too small a gap created from all that effort. 

Registering the fallen form as Gustaf. Floor a river of red from gushing jugular. Fragmented chest cavity. Barely taking in the mortal wounds inflicted by hybrid hands. 

Instead looking for crazy Cedric or equally insane Niklaus.

There was no sign of anyone else in the empty walkway. Could be anywhere. This place remained unfamiliar, no time to waste searching now.

I rushed down the hall. Counting steps. Backtracking they way I'd been dragged blindfolded. Delving into my obsessive directions. 

"Fifteen, sixteen," coming to a hideous paint scratched door, rushing through it recalling memory aloud," right, down twenty steps then two lefts....squeeky hinge and one more door..... "

Bursting into the smelly enclosure, fitfully,"Monique! Sally! Girls are you here?"

"Alicia, come," Niklaus strove, storming in. 

Halting frantic search. Clutching my wrist with stone determination. His agenda didn't factor a search and rescue into the equation, that was for damn sure.

Shaking free," stop, they're here, somewhere....we have to find them..."

Fingers biting into arms hard, he stalled the ramblings," focus. Listen to me. We are leaving now."

Instead of going willingly along with such righteous belief I fought at every turn. He was dragging me further into vipers nest. Places previously hidden, too many mazes in this den of iniquity. 

"I made a promise," tainted with fury," a word worth keeping. Leave if you must. Those girls ar.."

"Two of them beaten, " he responded,  throwing leather work belt onto a nearby table," one to death. The others I've sent on their way."

"Dead?" I stammered in disbelief, thinking back to our missing cellmate. Chest filling harshly with anxiety. She was only young, headstrong. A fighter to the end.

"You. Stand," he ground, pulling up a pulped man. Face swollen beyond recognition. The build clearly wasn't Cedric. Too short, stouter.

"Where's Ced..." I began only to be shut down.

"Organ grinder, more persuasive than monkey," Niklaus exclaimed sharply by way of explanatation.

The man spat at him, blood globbing. Rolling down hybrid cheek bone. There was a moment in which a cold smirk latched the originals mouth. Split second disbelief. Someone dared do that to him. A Mikaelson. 

My blink one of shock. He asked for trouble. 

Crunch and a slam flying by in fast blur. 

"Angal..." I realised. Finally placing the man. Recognizing the gold medallion on his pinkie finger. 

Not that the arm would be much use now, seeing as it hung broken in three places. Niklaus held his face squashed into tabletop. Using a rag of Angals sleeve to wipe off offending spittle.

"You have yet to prove your worth, understand?" he levelled. Angal wimpered a responce, nodding."Good, now. These little bugs, was that imbicile Cedric telling the truth. They can be extracted?"

"Only made for one thing. She's as good as dead," Angal responded, teeth rattling loosely in his jaw, " we'd have sold her to you, for the right price. Broken her in first too..."

The hybrid brought calloused murmer to the mans ear," wrong answer."

"Oh you one of 'em necrophilia freaks," he surmised tauntingly," can see it now..."

Yanking Angal up, he tore into the mans throat. Dropping him raglike to the floor to bleed out. Gurguling growing fevered then sparce. 

Crude, crass and downright disgusting till last breath. His vulgar statement sealed his fate. Hybrid temper saw to the rest. 

I listened to the sparse sound through beating eardrums. Niklaus busy searching through the bag laid out in front of him.

"What the.....what was that about?" I ventured hesitantly.

He could have put aside petty name calling and dragged the required information from the man. Not like he didn't know exactly how to torture an individual without actually killing them. 

He cocked an eyebrow, holding up a scalpel to the light quickly," outran his usefulness."

'Of course,' I thought off handed my,' silly me.'

Asks stupid question, expects a reasonable, non violent answer. Was my life capable of such daring feats?

Twisting me around. Steadying my neck, Niklaus snailed the impossibly sharp blade along still unhealed wound. Cutting stitches wide open smoothly. Squirming with unease.

"Do you know what you're doing?" 

He had just killed the last person who knew of these infernal devices. 

"Remain still," grated response edged with further clamping of palm against lacerated flesh. 

"Well do you have a clue what you're bloody doing then?"

Not filled with the relief one would expect from a Knight in shining armour. No. This particular being was brash. Had he spared enough time mid-slaughter to find anything out. What exactly had Cedric divulged, if anything?

Sighing in complete frustration," reach around. There's a remote in my front pocket." Blindly following crease of trousers to locate it. Exhaling jaggedly," that's not a...." grumbling low, my hand skimming inner thigh in error. 

Re-evaluating before tapping around. Finding the silver remote. Bringing the thing to my eyes. A solitary orange light flickering. Thankfull to have cause to skirt over my mistaken groping.  Too infused with inspecting the gadget to worry enough for embarrassment to surface.

"Ok now what?" 

"There's a button," he said, "a small reset one. Grey in colour I believe. Push it when I say." 

Grey button?

Fizzles of electrical waves prancing freely through my spine already. The heat sensor feeling brushes of cold tipping it's metallic frame. Sending it into schizophrenic meltdown.

"Wait...."

"Trust me," he pryed at the device, sending pain spiraling through the base of my skull," do it now." 

Point of no return. Gulping. Holding my breath I did as bid. Relieved to feel the obstruction removed fully. 

Thrown by dripping hybrid fingers onto the leather. He hunched over the table. Tiredness emanating from stance of his shoulders. Gathering together the implements after brief breather. 

Process of stemming blood flow and bandaging up was done wordlessly. Tensly. Quick and sharp with impatience. Unsure whether it was aimed at my constant questioning. He despised being queried almost as much as my Viking friend. 

Niklaus snatched the remote from my still clenched grip. Taking the gadgets, they were tossed into a boiler furnace as we passed. 

Stumbling quickly into more respectable, mans clothes. Niklaus lead us out. Avoiding throngs of flashing red and blues beginning to gather

Tending to victims of this horrendous place. Clamping eyes on Sally in passing she smiled. Relieved. I could almost cry. Chest welling full of the feeling. 

Even if we never met again. Rest would come easy. Promise made had been upheld. She would be alright. Shielded by medics and authorities. Her hand holding tight to Monique's. Yes, they would be just fine. Traumatized but they'd live.

****

"Flight 369, to Louisiana boarding Gate four," a rather smiley hostess announced," all passengers with priority boarding are invited to begin embarking at this moment."

"Alicia," Niklaus said, pulling me up by the elbow, as he rose, " that's us. Shall we?"

"Patience," I responded. Moving free of the continued manipulation through crowd," I know you'd rather be elsewhere, but if you touch me once more, you'll loose the hand. I'm moving as fast as bloody possible. Plane can't leave without us now can it?"

Regarding me with ever vigilant intrigue, he caught the falling handle of my carry on. Looping it gingerly over my shoulder, with one annoying index finger.

All the amusement he had over my unreasonable attitude, brimming forth through dancing amber's of blue orbs. Apparently the middle of an airport was a safe enough place to push boundaries, after I'd been so clear that he keep his limbs to himself. Glaring thunderously at his obvious good humour. Did he even realise how much I wanted to tear his hybrid head off right now?

It was bad enough that he'd had to buy me a some respectable clothes. And kit me out. The outfit one that I'd burn once home, serving as a reminder of this place. A memory best severed.

This over familiarity was too much. Bating me. 

Like he almost took pleasure in seeing how furious I'd get. How long before explosive outburst. It felt as if his presence was everywhere. Through the clothes, reclaimed passport, to my side. Everywhere. A strangling aura that I'd much sooner be rid of. Had seen plenty of him these past few days.

"Hi, it's our pleasure to have you flying with us today," the hostess greeted, taking our tickets graciously. 

"Oh believe me love, the pleasures all mine," he drawled sickenly back.

'Give it a rest.'

Groaning impatiently I took my pass back and stormed on ahead. Stupid, infuriating men. This particular one embodied so many flaws it was hard to pinpoint what annoyed me the most.

"Something the matter," he called catching up to quickened pace with ease.

"No," response sharp, I placed a bag in the overhead locker.

Falling into a window seat without asking. Our alloted numbers were adjoining, that much I'd noted. At least staking this claim irked none but him. Tough if he wanted it. To stare at clouds and dream of wondrous shores, would help pass the time. After all he had put me through thus far, it was a luxury I was claiming for myself. 

Licking a curled lip in acceptance the hybrid slipped into adjoining place. Causing more prickles of temper by unwittingly leaning towards me. Hanging over the half folded armrest.

"Look can you not do that," I snapped, tapping the partition pointedly, earning no more than a  eyebrow raise,"just stay on your side."

"My side?"

"Yes. Over there," avoiding the look of curisoty drawn out by my continued hostility. Staring out at tarmac. Wishing this plane to depart hastily. 

Clicking the rest up completely. Making more of a point by removing the cause of irritation full stop. Damn it, why did he always do that. End up with surer footing, having me seem ridiculous.

"None of this venom sounds even remotely like gratitude," he ventured, flicking open an in-flight magazine. Skimming the glossy pages casually.

"Gratitude?" I spat accusingly," thank you for what exactly Niklaus?" 

Taking great time to examine the current page he was perusing. Ignoring my orbs boring into his face with temper. He knew I was staring at him. Could feel the heated rays of contempt. Not seemingly bothered by it. Curse those ever handsome features. Should have slapped him when I had the chance.  The very moment he entered Malcom Duchamps lair.

I despised this. See-sawing, rumba rhythm clutching my heart. How could I detest yet care about a single being so darn much.

Want to throw him off a rocket into the earths atmosphere, let him burn upon it's protective barriers.  But still feel the overwhelming need to protect and serve him till faded breath.

It made no sense. About as much intellect as me owing him a heartfelt thank you.

"Did you wish an extended stay in Chez Gustaf?" he queried over his shoulder.

"Only as much as I wanted to be 'pimped out,'" I spat, recalling what treatment went down in that marble room.

Hands on my body, mouth pressed against throat. He'd pushed buttons that should have remained unclicked. Him and those glimmering blue eyes. Damn the wolven nose which sent phantom traces along my skin. Pushing aside thoughts of chiseled cheeks flecked with blond/brown hairs. That edged to play taunting games of dare.

'Stop it Alicia,' my inner co-pilot snapping.

Throwing reality, an ice bucket in my face. It was that Cologne. He was wearing it again. Mind played tricks in warped ways it seemed. 

Niklaus was staring. Trying to read the situation. 

Orbs skimming my form, lips ajar, before meeting my gaze to answer an almost forgotten snipe," yes well, nothing actually happened. Did it?" 

His final question hanging onto a more serious tone. 

I'd refused to give him even two seconds of attention since leaving that place. Busying myself with different tasks as he organised the flights and transfers. Not that it took long. But I was afraid that even speaking with him would descend into unbridled anger. Even the surprise upon finding he had reclaimed my passport doing little to stem the tide of lava. He had followed a trail from Malcom Duchamp, right to the hell hole, of that I had little doubth.

What episodes acted out in his absence perplexed him. They obviously played on his mind. I hadn't given chance for him to finish airing them. Such horrible thoughts. I didn't want to hear any. Living the squalor enough terror, I didn't need to know his fears also. 

If in fact he felt anything other than an after thought of guilt. Leaving me with a Malcom 'no moral compass' Duchamp, was a stupid thing to do. What happened after he left was as much his fault as theirs.

The laws of averages, if not for his actions theirs would have been impossible.

Stuck ln this metallic monster, they were unavoidable now. Shielding myself with spurts of angry words. If I behaved uncooperatively maybe Niklaus would leave things alone altogether.

Unsure of what had actually been taken from me. Surely not all magic could be gone? Every trace. 

Focusing on moving objects, touching plants. Nothing. As if witchcraft had dissipated. Nature shut off in ways I'd known since childhood. Would I still be able to concoct and brew? The smallest of tasks, hopefully didn't need full Ancient capabilities.

All thoughts which had taken a back seat until now. Horrors gone, I could face new ones.

"Alicia," Niklaus probed, leaning over muttering," were you... did anything? Anyone?...."

Observing some discomfort take hold of the original, unable to get words out. Clicking his insessent phone he moved to silence it. Not before I spied numerous missed calls. Camille top of the list. He turned the cell off. Powering it down, as advised on flights. 

Awaiting a reply. 

"Just forget it," brushing off the inquiry. 

Why offer any solace when none was really ever given. Rebuttal silenced by the stewardess moving through the aisle, checking on safety belts. Pulling a travel pillow up to my side, fluffing vigorously, puffing out the fibers. Burrowing into its cushioned softness wearily, I shut my eyes. Closing off the world and him.

 


	10. A Troubled Stag Interlude

Elijah was irritated. 

Running his thumb and index finger across the egdes of his lip line, before moving them to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

He had let the ball slip. Sand graining through his palm. With a distracted act someone had managed to blindside him. Quite an unbelievable feat, but it happened nonetheless. Turning his back on throngs of people milling about on the street beneath his balcony view. 

Elijah strode further into the study. As if examining the inanimate objects contained therein would yield answers. But how could they voice such human things as mind changes or indecision. 

His brown eyes stared into nothingness, working slower than he'd like, to come up with a solution. The stag was usually quick on his toes but recently he had become tired. Weary with the world and dramas in general. 

When was the last day he'd gone completely unrestrained by thoughts of his family. Trying to put himself in their shoes. Work out their inner psyche, save them from themselves if need be. 

It was a neverending kaleidescope of faces and colours. Being another person. Not his true self. 

The last couple of weeks spent trying to decipher Niklaus moods. What exactly was chewing up numerous hours of his siblings time? True, majority of those unaccounted for daylight chunks were in a therapists company. 

Possibly trying to help himself. Elijah snorted derisively, that was a doubtful scenario. The hybrid was interested in the woman on a romantic level. Any opening, or carefully 'calculated' laying down of his inner demons was to bring her into his web. 

His persuit of the Forbes girl had been just as time consuming, but a different deck of cards used. The stag was sure that whatever reason Niklaus had for being sat on her couch was ulterior. Serving the purpose of numerous hidden plates. Delfwear spinning in a magical way on just out of sight sticks.

Ignoring Rebekah and her charming, on again, off again Marcel roundabout. Their arguments seemed trivial and juvenile to Elijah. Opting to feign a cursory interest, bullseye always set on the hybrid. 

What was he up to now? The silence and lack of painting stacking up to many questions. 

Too busy trying to be fly on the wall to his brother workings, his own attempts to gain upper hand went on the back burner.

Gritting his teeth he twisted the signet ring around twice. Like a unwinding mechanism. 

There was one thing he hated more than a plan taking a wrong turn. Diversion Elijah could just about manage. Always factoring in a plan A, B, C possibly even D. That wasn't what currently irked him. It was a 'double crossing' that annoyed, border line infuriated the stag. And this time it wasn't his sibling brother. 

That much he had come to expect. 

From all his brothers, no less. Without exception. Finn, Niklaus, Kol. Rubbing his eyes subconciously as his mind skirted through their various misdeeds thus far. Yes, the male Mikaelsons were a keen, conniving bunch. Himself included. 

The admittance making him feel dirty somehow, as if he needed to feel the burn of scalding water across his skin. It would cleanse and fire away such sins. Purge them from him. Hating to admit his mother had been right. She'd suggested he clean up after accidentally killing Tatia. And he'd warped that one episode where he'd scrubbed his skin so roughly until it bled, as a sort of obsessive way of righting his wrongs.

If the stag appeared clean, in control. Then they had somehow been hidden. Forgotten behind what his mother disgustedly called his 'red door', a place full to bursting with his lesser deeds. Those that caused him shame. 

Maybe he'd take a leaf out of Niklaus book. Find himself a good therapist. Possibly even discuss kin issues.

Sighing hard. He couldn't believe the recent turn of events. Family always pulled the worse stunts. This time was angelic faced Rebekah. His beautiful, ever loving sister. With hair a shining light of dimmed buttercup blonde and eyes so oceanic and pure. It was hard to suspect her of anything below the belt. 

Looks could be deceiving. 

For Elijah believed in some way his sweet sister could rival their mother when it came to getting her own way, and plots in general. Daughters often bore traits of their mothers without realising it. Blindly mimicking some behaviour they secretly found abhorrent. It was the funny, way of the world.

After all, had she not been the first of them to fully embrace vampire hood all those eyons ago. Never shying away from her new power. She'd always been ambitious, yet those independent ideas often short lived. Either side railed or abruptly halted by a swift dagger to the chest. 

Niklaus found that to be the only way of coping with her spirit. Not butting heads, just carting her around in a casket. The hybrid had done that for centuries whenever he felt one, or all of them were slipping out of his control. 

Elijah uncuffed his shirt sleeves instinctively. Flexing wrists, pulling a swift drag of coffee into his mouth. Mocha Frappuchino goodness failing miserably to quench his thirst.

It was disappointing. The beverage from his favourite barista offered no solice. But then, the ashen taste coating his buds wouldn't be soaked until the world was made right again. 

'Why sister?' he queried aloud. 

Speaking to himself. Silence heavy around him. 

How had she done this? They had planned together to twart Niklaus. 

She had aired reserved sentiments over how strange their brother acted towards Alicia. Their old friend.

Well, Rebekahs friend really. Although he'd seen the girl wandering through woods and village equally, Elijah had done no more than pass a cordual greeting. The medicine man's daughter was strange and distant. More at home talking to nature. Often catching her murmuring something to plants or animals. Having a way with wild things. Maybe that's why Niklaus was intrigued by her. He was just as drawn to animals, wolves in particular. Although that all made sense now. Given his lineage. 

Elijah enjoyed his chats with the girl. He had to admit to that. She was more level headed than his sister. And he hoped Alicia would probe to be a positive influence on Rebekahs more outlandish behaviour. Where as Rebekah was prone pout stubbornly to get her own way, her friend showed some temperance. Patient enough to know that one always didn't get what they wanted. 

They were different when they were together. More level. So much so that he'd agreed, along with Niklaus to train the two girls in weaponry. Something their mother would had been set vehemently against. 

Yes Alicia Ballo, a childhood friend, one they'd assumed was long dead. She was a surprise blast from the past. From a lifetime long forgotten.

He smirked, recalling how stupid it was of him not to recognise her prose. When she first spoke up in the coffee shop. He should have known her. Yet she still had the power to surprise. 

He'd been aware of course that something had peaked his interest, but it was strange to be confronted by a face of that time. Their youth. When things were much simpler. They weren't yet turned to monstrosities, and little Henrik had been with them. Until fate decided to claim him for angelic choirs. 

His brothers memory always brought sweet sorrow. A turning point for them all.

Distraught parents and witchcraft did not a good team make. 

A switch went off in Niklaus head that day. Elijah's gaze picked up that much. 

Something dimmed. And guilt ate away for centuries. The stag had a feeling that his brother bore the brunt for their being turned too. 

Had he not gone to watch the wolves, Henrik would have lived. No spell creating the original family of immortals would have come to pass. 

Cursing inwardly. Of course since Alicia had reappeared a new tangent forked out in their lives. Niklaus who'd been devastated after Caroline, and moved slowly onto feeling for Camille, was now torn in proverbial two. It was clear to him, his sibling had conflicting emotions regarding the woman. His random argument with that hulking viking Eric proved as much. 

Then there was his overwhelming insistence that she be left convalescing under his watchful eye. It was unlike his brother on so many levels. Sending queried emotions running around Elijah's head. She was a vampire but yet a witch. It beguiled them. And his hybrid brother seemed to pursue her with a questionable interest. 

Like he'd discussed with Rebekah at some length, taking away Alicia power would give a clear indication to all involved what exactly Niklaus was after. Power or some sick scheme to create more beings like him somehow. A new army of super wolves. Where other witches had failed could an Ancient somehow get it to work without doppelganger blood.

His brother was adventurous with schemes. He had after all broken the hybrid curse. Was left with opening for a follow up project. A thing which needed taking out of his grasp before hidden hand could be played.

They'd come up with a solution. 

Temporary, but long enough to give time to source another.

Yet now, his lovely sister had taken their vessel. One they were going to use to store said power and claimed the mortal shell for herself. 

Elijah wanted to punch something in his fury. 

How could she be so selfish?

They'd come up with the plan and semantics together. He'd been forced to speak to the Strix, a foundation he'd created, but left when their father closed in on them. Forcing the family to go on the run once more across continents.

Aya had been her usual prickly self. But intelligence prevailed. He was after all her maker and cofounder of the group she now lead with Tristan.(Yet another blemish on society.)

They reluctantly agreed to help him source a Seidr and old warlock willing to strip away Ancient essence. He owed them one, and it made Elijah somewhat nervous to think on what they'd cash in. It was a big undertaking so payback would be something equally, if not bigger, than his own request. 

Bloody Rebekah! 

Cashing the cheque before ink was fully dry. 

He'd smelt as soon as Niklaus walked in with Camille that she held something different. A quieter heartbeat and slight fragrance that he'd come to associate with Alicia.

The smirk on his brothers face one of triumph. Though short lived, before any gloating could begin. A received phone call shortly after stepping foot through threshold sent him rushing to the study. Booking more flights with renewed vigor. 

Then he was gone, as was a newly changed Camille. And Elijah was alone in the compound fuming. Rebekah's phone off. Her voicemail filling with messages from him. The stag knew she'd be gone for a while. But he needed allies, even backstabbing ones. Niklaus had the power of an Ancient dancing through Camille's frame. Rendering his plots moot. 

What could they do now?

He wanted to call Hayley.

But. Frowning dismissively, it was far too early for that. Hope would be sleeping. And more pertinent Jackson wouldn't like it. Not one bit. 

He'd resolved to give Hayley a wide berth, after making it clear that she'd never go behind her husband's back, Or leave him. And Elijah wasn't one to share. Indeed stealing someone's partner would be unbecoming. 

So dutiful Uncle he had to be, and keep pretext that he only cared for Hopes wellbeing now. While visiting her he could always see for himself how the beautifully strong Hayley was getting on. Marriage suited her. 

Even if it was to a mere wolf and not him Elijah mulled, before deciding to take a preemptive measure. One he'd never envisioned before. Sourcing that damn club in Shreveport that Alicia mentioned. He had to see if she was okay. And given the now missing vessel in the hospital. She may have a clue as to where his sister has gotten off to.


	11. Catch A Breath

The was smokyness invading me. Clouding the beautiful Flora I was immersed in. That foggy nature creeping in. Out of nowhere. The flowers going grey. Dying as the airborne essence touched it. Panic gripped my chest. Prickling it with icyness. Shivering as if my flesh too had become positively artic. 

Backing away from the death fog. It descended with certainty. Killing all in it's paths. And I was next. 

Unable to run. Rooted to the spot. Watching the green patch I was stood on getting gradually smaller. A spotlit space closing in. Soon I too would be touched by the hands of mortality. And the fear plunging through my heart was palpable.  

A shadow caught my eye. The shaded figure of a man. 

Stood quite tall, legs shoulder width apart. Completely grounded. Straining my eyes to follow him. The figure vanishing and reappearing at times nearer and further from me. Flickering like television signal. Crackling in a crispy way. Maybe they were a warlock. One attempting to unnerve me. For where their optics should be glowed in an orange light. Cats night vision but glowing with the colour of sunlight instead.  

Whispers had began to creep up. Tingling through soles of my feet. As if I was stood on soil where people had perished. Their final wishes starting to reach out gnarled fingertips my way. Knowing what happened when souls took over. Their deeds would be done. At this rate I would be unable to stop their wrath. Niggling dread that their anger would be aimed at me. 

The remnants of Meadonforth looking to get revenge. Lives I took. A justice which needed to be served. 

My magic gone, no defence could be put up. Breathing shallowly with realization, I didn't want to face them now. Couldn't. Not right here. Courage was ripped to shreds. No comfort came from the knowledge that this was 'just deserts'. Only numbing fear. Veins thumping hard in my ears. 

'Please help!'

Trying too call out for aid. I found with panic, my voice gone. Yell silenced. 

That questionable person. Whoever they were, would be safer than vengeful spirits. Their surveillance never weaning. Watching , although oblivious to my plight.

Avoiding reaching out or flailing my limbs to attract their attention. The mist had stopped it's advance but I was overtly aware that it could suddenly spring to life once more. Swallow me whole. And the vision of eternal darkness awaiting was more scary than being confronted by the devil himself. 

The man turned with disinterest. He thought more than to aid, or approach the crazy woman in deaths grip. 

"Your path is paved with thorns," voice of Sedir edged in out of nowhere. 

Blinking in confusion. What was happening to me? His words hardly worthy to flash as monologue to impending doom. 

Malcom was smirking in my face. Misting in like a ghost. Waltzing quite happily through the currently lightening fog. His cigar and clipper tightly in hand. 

"The essence is lost and so are you." 

Picking up my passport with disgust. Tossing it into wastepaper basket. He stretched leisurely, before inspecting up his phone. Checking on bank details once more. Ignoring the sorry specimen which was me. 

"Not bad for less than an hours work."

My orbs scanning the deposit with gaped awe. 

€50,000?! 

Was that the going rate for Ancients?  Thinking bitterly to myself. How cheap. To be in possession of such power was surely worth more than a measily few grand. 

"Touched by Satan himself. " Gulping when the Sedir appeared again. "Tarnished scales."

"He shall meet you soon. And heavens themselves shall weep."

"Your kindred have turned, seek them not."

My eyes danced with prickles of unshed tears. He'd been brutally honest. This rhino hide had to be tough. He couldn't see me crumble. 

"Take her!!" Malcom hollered. 

Trying to keep up with the confusing sway from one being to another. The men intermingling seamlessly. Things were becoming a mishmash of faces and voices. Too many feelings welling in at once. Suffocating with their weight. 

It was at this point I swiveled around. An attempt to run. 

Shrieking instead. 

Faced with my jailor. That disgusting man, who sold womens bodies as if he owned their very rights. Of air, breath and life itself. 

Hating with a vengeance what was right in front of my eyes. A stare down that lasted mere seconds. 

Gustafs face burst into ripples of tendril red membranes. Exploding out flesh and bone. Splodges glooping against my neck and cheek. Startled by the cascading  warmpt that accompanied their landing on my flesh. The mans skull crumbled away. 

What shot out of the remains was a wolf. Grey. Snarling with foamy teeth bared menacingly. Drips of spittle hanging, before dropping in slow motion off yellowish ivory fangs. Wet nose approaching to tip mine. 

Scruncing lids shut trembling.

'No, no, no...please no,'whispering a repeated refrain.

Hoping against hope to escape this hell. Panting, scared scuttles of fear rampaging through every fiber of my body. 

*

Jumping with a start. I struggled to place myself. The atmosphere strangely warm,  yet I shook with cold. Air blew down from over head. Through an angled, open grill. This was the aircraft. 

My clothes were drenched in perspiration. Travel pillow wet at my cheek. 

"Ma'am, we've taxied to a halt. You're free to disembark, " the slightly disturbed voice of an airhostess informed me. Recalling her as the one who checked us in on arrival. My companion openly flirting with her. 

Pulling a clump of messy hair into my shaking balled fist. I swallowed in apprehension. It was all a dream. A nightmare. 

"Are you alright? "

Glancing around me in horror. I was the only one left in the craft. Besides a few staff. Where was everyone gone? 

The seat to my side was cold. Empty for quite a while. All that was left of Niklaus was a folded up paper. Placed in the caught up, drop tray in front of me. I recognised the handwritten name. Formal to a point 'Mz Ballo.' 

A kind of slap in the face. Treating me as one would a casual acquaintance. Glaring at the innocent parchment with irritation. 

'You've gotta be kidding, ' my mind raged. 'He just bloody well left me here.'

"Ma'am is everything alright, " the hostess was getting worried. Fidgity. 

Scrabbling in embarrassment to gather together my belongings. I could barely look at her. Grabbing the note in haste. Scrunching it up angrily. 

Bloody men. 

Navigating up and down the aisle, I murmured apology to the hostesses. Who despite being tired after a long haul flight gave me a courteous,  if tired farewell. 

Catching a couple of looks of pity being cast my way, I endeavoured to keep my chin up. Marching through the airport in a haze. 

Good God I must appear a monstrous sight. Ditched and dejected. Taking a few moments in the ladies cubicles to straighten out. 

Taking a deep breath. Putting on my best 'business' face. Not looking forward to procuring travel from here to Shreveport. Few dared drive that far. Let's see how long I'd have to wait for transport. 

*** Fangtasia ***

"Ginger get your fucking ass moving, "Pam snapped, walking over to deposit money bags beside the till. Rolling her eyes in temper, "and where the hell is Yvette?"

Tapping her pristine fingernails with impatience waiting for their air headed staff member to join her behind the bar. 

"She's running late, " Ginger informed in her usual light manner. 

Pam chose to ignore the undertone of unease. That change to Gingers heartbeat. She was lying, covering for her friend and colleague. 

Inhaling evenly to calm an escalating temper. Not calling out the woman on the obvious mistruth. Instead letting her get on with her task. Clinking bottles into fridges to restock. 

Another body down for the night. This Pam could do without. 

"Fan-fucking-tastic," she mouthed. Opening the steel drawer to pour change into the chambers. 

Clicking crisp notes under spring tips before shutting the register. At least Chow and his consorts had showed up. The security bouncers getting suited and prepped out back. Well that's what they claimed. But Pam was well aware that they were smoking.  A couple of men preferring something stronger than your run of the mill tobacco. 

They had a special stash that they'd roll fresh each time. Sparking up, puffing merrily away until they finished. Returning to their posts glassy eyed and giddy. 

Hell, sometimes she'd even join them. Enjoying how the sweet stuff relaxed her anxious oftentimes wound up body. Even as an immortal Pam was glad she could enjoy such simple things. 

Tonight though there would be little chance of reprieve,  especially if left manning the fort. 

Shirking out her slim cellphone,  she tapped it into life. Marvelling at how such a sleek piece of technology was able to be just as powerful as a computer. And it could fit into a pocket. Or cleavage. Whichever preference ticked your box. 

Flicking through speed dial to find Eric's number. 

She ridiculed  the lame excuse he'd given her earlier. 

'Running an errand!' as if there wasn't a club to manage. I mean Pam was used to taking the helm on any given day, but this deal with Sookie was becoming too much of a flaming distraction. 

If he was going to be gone for the night she had at least got the right to know. Poxy men and their rampaging teenage hormones. The sooner he either got into, or over that blonde waitress the better. 

Club doors opened momentarily. But she was too distracted thinking how best to word her wrath. Her mentor was really irritating her with his continued acting like a youth in first flush of puppy love. 

A distraction was necessary or she'd spontaneously combust. Too much pent up emotions. She knew instinctively what was wrong with her. And just how to right said wrong. 

Releasing of pressure, tension. Her body needed to relax and that called for endorphic means. Thoughts wrapped up in images she forgot about placing the call to her maker. 

Pam's brows quirked upon hearing the distinctive thread of Yvettes footfalls behind her. 

Oh yes, she'd do!

A lascivious smile playing across her face, this girl was cutting things close.  A scoulding was in order. That was for sure. 

"You know I make up the rosters not you, honey. How's about stopping by my office, so we can 'discuss' your bad behaviour."

Twirling around at leisure in the hope that the basically gorgeous employee was equally amourous. Pam's erotic notions flew out the window. Face shutting into a scowl. 

Yvette was angled. Arm gripped, in a tight robotic manner. Between the firm fingers of a suited figure. 

"Apologies any tardiness may have been my fault, " Elijah said assuredly, "this young lady took some convincing to escort me in. It seems your doors aren't open yet and there's business to discuss. "

Brown orbs flickering with disgust around the dimly lit surroundings. 

What was this idiot doing here? Fair enough he'd helped free her and Alicia from under a cemetery piece upon a time. But the appearance of  That family meant one thing. Not only Stackhouse drama but flaming Mikaelson too.

"What the fuck business do You have here," she grated in a hiss. 

Glaring at Yvette. The woman stumbled past her, mouthing an apology. 

'Stupid girl!'

Blinking away angry thoughts of teaching her a lesson, Pam conceded to letting her temper out at the right person. That bloody man. When would Alicia's rather questionable choice of friends stop effecting them. 

She had no specters from her past invading the now, so why could her nestmates not do the same. After all if Eric hadn't angered someone high in the vampire council. They would be on another continent,  enjoying vineyards and freedom. 

Not dragged to this cess pool they'd been forced to fashion into a home. 

And Alicia, if she'd left those plastic, witch-made blood suckers alone. They'd never have seen her or known she still walked this globe. They'd have lived in blissful ignorance. 

Subsequently leaving the nest of Northman in happy secrecy too. 

She looked on at the immortal with annoyance. Up till now his 'walk-in-the-sunlight' kind were watched with the amusement one used when regarding a 'fly on the wall' television show. But if he insisted on integrating himself into their world. 

Well the man would be in for a huge shock. This was real, gritty and downright seedy. Would such a gentle constitution survive. Or that Armani suit. She observed with a flicker of realization that he had classic, expensive taste. 

Now, that just wouldn't do. How could one possibly move freely, or scrub blood satisfactorily from such elegant material? He'd be eaten alive. The immortals she knew would take such a being apart just out of idle boredom. 'Original' blood line be damned. His reputation was worthless in their small slice of damnation. 

Was some comedic drama about to unfold, drawing vampires out of the woodwork. They'd no doubt want to investigate this phenomenon known as the 'Mikaelson' family. 

Elijah was oblivious to her inner monologue. 

Hating the fact that he was now bathed in questionable surroundings. 

Places like this one hardly commonplace. 

More at home in decadence,  he realised that he'd become slightly snobby. Used to the finer things. 

Of course it hadn't always been that way. Their family had to go on the run for centuries, sometimes living in forests alone. 

But never in such squalor. 

A den of inequity. 

Pursing his mouth in deep turmoil. Should he stay or leave?

Knowing what took place here. It would sully his name to be linked with such an establishment. And he'd worked hard to make a reputation for himself as the more reasonable Mikaelson. The one to approach with Treaties and negotiations. 

Inhaling with dull acknowledgement,  if he could live with the actions of Niklaus and to a lesser extent Kol , this one indiscretion would do no harm. There was still enough ground covered to rise above petty whispers and idle gossip. Not that there was a chance such rumours would make it as far as New Orleans or the compound. 

Shrugging off an image of Hayleys reaction to such information. He, Elijah Mikaelson in fang-banger heaven. She would smirk and have some clever quip. One he'd have to act indifferent to,  while inwardly enjoying basking in her presence. Blinking slowly to get his mind back on track. 

The stag plucked a handkerchief out of lapel pocket. Opening the linen square, looking around him. Spotting a barstood he deemed adequate to sit upon. Elijah took said seat. Wiping down a ledge of counter top before placing a bent elbow there. 

A tad presumptuous maybe, but he sought information. And seeing as neither Rebekah or Alicia were answering the technological communication, referred to as cell phones. He would have to wade through formalities. Albeit in a less than 'formal' setting. 

Pam crossed her arms, " is your majesty ready to answer me yet."

He met her condescendingly icy tone with an assured smirk," how quick one forgets their manners,  and those who've extended aid... "

Strutting towards him snarling, " it was your moronic brother who put me under a fucking cemetery. So excuse me if I don't bend over backwards in gratitude."

"Quite," Elijah mused, eyeing one of the five metallic poles dotted around their club, " best save the physical gymnastics for your clients. "

Outrage bubbled in her blazing orbs, " I'm not a fucking stripper! I own this place... "

The stag stayed indifferent, "and here I labored under the illusion that Mr Northman was in charge."

True. His name was mentioned on the deeds, which had been drawn up and signed via solicitors. 

Oh, hell to the fucking no! Fangtasia wasn't just Eric's. She'd help build this place. Changed the building from crumbling dump into thriving nightspot. 

Assuming that he, a man was sole proprietor! That all but undid Pam's rage.

He may be her mentor, maker. But her manager in this club, he was not. 

None employed Pam, now or ever.  

She'd always been an entrepreneur. Saw a need and filled it,  whilst suitably lining her pockets. 

Rage had been blistering at a steady simmer up till now. 

Yanking Elijah up to his feet by suit lapels, she slapped him. Hard. Fingernails catching flesh enough to draw a few drops of blood. 

"Not that it's any of your business you goddamned prick, we're co-owners. He's not my fucking boss, " Pam was spitting.

Ever since she'd met Eric they were on even terms, character wise. 

When he changed her, footing was cemented by becoming equally immortal. He'd only ever spoken down to her when Pam straight out refused to do his bidding while he tried to 'keep her safe.' She accepted,  even owned her stubborn impulsiveness. 

After all it was why he loved her. In his own way. 

Underling was never a title that suited Pam. It itched,  downright stunk of mediocrity. 

She'd run a brothel on her own, in a man ruled world. Not only that, she'd a reputation as a woman not to be toyed with. Even back then. Her knife was sharpened and used to being angled at the more brutish males. 

Who in the hell did this presumptuous imbicle think she was. Mere subordinate. Never. 

Brown eyes glinted darkly. But with a flick of handkerchief he wiped the crimson with a swift dab. Not giving into lashing back physically. 

"My apologies, " he gritted,  before regaining his gentlemanly tone," I may have deserved that."

"Why are you looking for Eric? " she queried. Wanting to get to the crux of this visit. 

He straightened up, pushing the now stained cotton into trouser pocket, "actually it's not him I desire to speak with, but Alicia. "

Smiling in a smug way she raised her eyebrows, "she's not around. Out of the country."

Wetting his mouth before speaking he replied evenly, "are you certain?"

"Quite. "

Thinning his lips in thought. He nodded, "well I guess I'll settle for a drink then. "

Pam's face scouled. "Not in here you won't. We're not open yet. Get the fuck out. "

Striding towards the door he smirked to himself. She was far too easy to wind up. High strung. 

"I hope to see you again soon Mz Swynford de Beaufort," hearing her sigh loudly with satisfaction. Adding sparks to her flame."For parting is always such sweet sorrow. "

Chuckling to himself as glass clattered against the door frame. Happily shielded behind it. Safe from trajectory of projectile shards. 

He chunked his way to the Chevy. Wondering off hand what to do now. For she just had to be around. He had that feeling in his bones, and Elijah was too much of a pragmatist to ignore such obvious sences. 

After living for so long, one learned that whispers often proved correct. That inner eye of intuition. Sliding into the driver seat with confidence. 

A stake out seemed in order. Not for the first time would his spying skills be called upon. 


	12. The Follower

Her scent was enough to follow. His charm did all the rest. The wolf stretched, glad of one thing. That the flight was over. This long haul nonsense didn't suit him. caged up in metallic confines. 

Made him feel shackled again. Bringing back memories of those jaded trials within his pack. Always being standoffish, a loner, he had stuck out blister-like when members began dropping. Handed to local necromancers on a silver guilded platter. For whatever those witches had planned.

Five wolves down, fear weaved through the masses. Measures had been taken to find the nark in their midst. For the aforementioned reasons Logan seemed a likely scapegoat.

He'd been trusted once. A leader who's advice was not only sought after but who's word was gospel. They would have done anything for him. All Logan had to do was nod for action to be taken.

It had made him nervous. All that loyalty. Blind belief in him. Although that gradually dulled with his refusal to take a mate. A fellow Were to become Queen B. Join him in the leadership of their grouping.

It was an expected route that he deviated from. None could understand. After all what red blooded wolf-male didn't chose the strongest woman for partner. Have equally strong offspring. It just didn't interest him on any level. 

So Logan stuck to flying solo. 

Ignoring at best the women who'd descend on him. Oftentimes in droves when local packs came together during festivities. Completing with each other for his attention. Flirting madly in an attempt to get his testosterone racing. 

Which sometimes worked. On a baser level. 

Of course appetite dictated that certain needs be met. Once awakened lust needed to be slaked. 

He'd taken a few to his bed, but not into his heart. 

Logan soul belonged to the ever elusive girl he'd met in his teens. 

A free fighting spirit. She'd not been born with the wolf gene. Which would be frowned upon. Given how singular certain pack members still were. Clinging to archaic beliefs that blood lines should be kept pure. 

Yet his attraction was to her. Tall, beautiful and destined to another. 

It was his misfortune, having to watch her live her life. Marry, have a family, friends, grandchilden. 

The same faces, who after a lifetime, surrounded her grave to say farewell. None noticing the figure isolated on the edged of cemetery. She'd been happy. Like destiny foretold. Even without him, karma found a way to give the woman what she deserved. Of which he was glad. 

He could have persued her. Followed his heart, but his conscience wouldn't permit it. Such a selfish act as it was. For she'd have to leave behind the world as she knew it. Join him in exhile. And for what, to have her all to himself, biding time, watch her die. 

Logan knew that with his build up, his lineage. He would out live her. The wolf seemed to age marginally. One year, if even that, compaired to humans decade. Even his childhood friends, fellow pack members, minus similar genomes continued to grow older when he did not. 

His blood was 'royal', a true lycanthrope. Which was different, caused quibbles with his Were pack while growing up. They seemed convinced that he should be sent away, left with those who'd lycan genetics. Although his parents refused and those arguments soon simmered out. 

Logan flexed a shoulder, to dull deepening ache. Calm down the spidering sensation of pain. It was his bum one. Which played up like this with the changes in weather or strain. Muscle that hadn't quite healed correctly since he'd been clipped. 

Moron may have used pure silver, but touched the bullet with their fingers while loading up. Thank God for skins oils, and clumsy gunslingers. 

Their stupidity had kept him breathing. Had to amount for something at least.

Stuffing the knowledge that it was the new Leader who'd put a hit on him into a groggy box.

Not content with being in charge, he wanted concrete assurance that the old head didn't come back. Challenge him, for the position,. The only way to get that was death. But Gregor hadn't banked on his hitman being lax with lore.

So Logan had gone into hiding. Virtually vanishing. There were only a couple of Weres that knew the truth. And he trusted them to keep his secret for fear of the wrath of a patient man. 

And Logan was notorious for two things his honesty, and patience. So if he said he'd enact the worse pain imaginable, you'd better believe it. 

Shirking backpack onto his chest. He relaxed as the straps pressed perfectly on the painful scar. The weight acting as a pressure point. This he could manage until he could comfortably source some ointment. 

Logan wasn't entirely sure whether the topical creams actually had any real effect or did they just lull him with Placebo emptiness.

Seeking them blindly in need of comfort. A full grown man, returning to pacifier stage. Joining the second shortest line for passport check, he glanced at the forged papers with trepidation. He'd been assured that this would work. The document worked over by a friend in Nerave Government. 

Approaching the desk his heart thunked steadily. Breath level. 

The woman studied it for a moment before giving a slight smile," alright Dom you're good to go. Welcome to America."

His eyebrow twitched, really first name terms? How professional? 

Having to remind himself once more that things were different here. It was a new land. Each scenario with a different set of rules to the kill or be killed, turn a blind eye Republic he was accustomed to. She gave him a sly wink on passing.  

He stood proud at well over 6 foot. And although she wasn't necessarily his type he was happy that he could still have such an effect after 15 hours on a plane. 

A consort in Nerave had been in contact recently. After almost four years of non-contact, surprising the wolf by not only the sudden call, but the nature of information passed into him. 

*Mack* had been a fellow pack member.not only that but his trusted second in command. They had fallen out when the trial kicked in.

His friend being called upon to give testimony against his alpha. Their relationship more than suffered it became non exhistant. 

Still he knew that his friend acted that way for a reason. *Mack's* family were still predominant members. So standing against the pack would've meant excommunication for them all as sympathizers. The phone call had been brief. And slack had been picked up from there. 

Logan conducted his own surveillance to fill in some blanks.

This Ancient needed pursuing. She'd left a crime scene in the clutches of some slim, but powerful being. A hybrid. One whose name far proceeded him. 

Gritting teeth in determination. Mikaelson. That family alone were the cause of many problems. Weaving a haphazard trail of chaos across the globe. 

Their presence making supernatural beings uncomfortable. This new strain of vampires seemed durable. Prodding covens to weed out some of their own who were hell bent on copying Esther. 

Many looked up to the witch. She'd succeeded where so many others failed. 

And that psychotic father of theirs, Mikeal, had an aptitude for killing. The blade as blind as the hunter wielding it. 

True he was renowned for chasing down vampires. But that didn't stop him from cutting down wolves and witches who got in his way. 

Heading towards the Tourist Information desk, Logan sniffed around. Trying to pick up her scent. Attempting not to draw undue attention his way.

It still hung around in small whispers, hidden amongst other fragrances. Concentration went on fathoming out direction and cause. He needed to make sure whatever tracks were made correlated with the Ancients. Footfall for footfall.


	13. My Own Personal Salem

Rage. That was all that I felt now. Plain, bubbling under the surface, pure rage.

Hating that I had been manipulated into giving away all that I was. Every warring piece. And that man, the one who meant so much had done it all. Gotten what he truly wanted. A plan that had been some time in the hatching no doubt. 

Scanning the space, the walls and floor, mantelpiece. 

Damn that tainted glass!

It had to go. Whispers of hybrid eyes daring to darken a path along its edges. Smoking in as if I'd chanted for the mirror to come to life. Launching a vase at its silvery stillness lest it speak. 

Utter lies, hurtful resenting murmers. 

Feeling some satisfaction, watching shards splintering out. Spitting to the ground. Scattering around in an unexpected explosion of needles. Fragments swinging from the frame. Clinging for dear life. Hoping not to join their comerades. 

Hyperventaliting with crushing defeat. The gravity hit me hard. Even here, my home held memories of him. Was there a part of my life he had left untouched. Untainted? Silent memories hanging as nooses. 

I was destroyed. Every part that could be. Demolished accurately. An almost artistic precision to the cunning. Rendered in a mixed media design. 

'Crush all.' 

One facet at a time. That way when the final step was taken, the ease and flourish would be astounding. Stolen right from under nose, leaving nothing. But empty husk. Tarnished soul. 

What better crown befitting a witch. We should all burn.

Here in Louisiana, this was my personal Salem, he the swinging trap under foot.

Suffering indescribable.

And the only form of grieving taking hold was red torture of anguish. A single stage yet to deviate from. That was the easiest emotion to latch onto. Being the strongest, stomping on all other voiced attempts to be heard.

Even the calm decorations of my living room seemed taunting in their serenity. They had to be as torn as me. As disarrayed. Charging around in overwhelming blackness I began throwing things everywhere. Launching inanimate objects, as if the were inplements of dispair. Hearing the smashing and clatters with satisfaction. Tipping over tables and throwing ornaments from their stands. 

Tears blinding. Welling up. Hating all of it, needing to destroy the place. It had to echo the crumbling life around me.

"Alicia!" Eric sounded startled from the door." What's going on.... I thought you were being attacked."

Tuning to face him. Tears still streaming down my face. Eyes puffy. Pushing aside shattered remains of the mirror, which once hung proudly over fireplace. 

Dismissing it's exhistance, with a swift swipe. Ignoring the slice of pain that slipped through my palm.

"Attacked?! No, everything has turned to crap. I have to get rid of this stuff. All this stupid stuff!!" 

Flinging a picture frame at the wall. He caught it smoothly, inches from crushing with canvass and brickwork alike. Placing it, with still hanging queries, on the window sill.

It was clearly out of sorts for me to be so pent up. Destructive. 

Sniffing, he took a step further into the mess," something's different."

"What!!" I yelled, drawn into a long rant," besides the terrible spectacle around you....sorry if my renovations are irritating. I wasn't expecting visitors, so you'll excuse the...."

Zipping to my side, "no. Different in you." 

Blinking in confusion. How could he sense that I was no longer an Ancient. It wasn't a perfume or scent. 

Clasping my hand, I winced, his eyes boring into my palm. Causing me to examine it too. Blood still oozing from jagged rip. Doubling me with scattered disbelief, it wasn't healing. Skin remaining open. Throbbing with soreness. 

What the hell? The flow wasn't ebbing as it usually did. 

Eric fought to keep his fangs hidden. Splicing readily to life at the scent of dripping crimson. 

"How is this possible?" He shot, peering through me. Listening to what I only assumed was my heart beat," Alicia. Its as if your mortal." The words hitting in concrete honesty," fully mortal."

My knees weakened. Fresh hole being gaped open. Vampire no more... Witchcraft sure but immortality? 

But of course the two were entwined inside me. Conjoined twins. Both necessary for the unique anomaly nature itself saw fit to create. Warring opposites in one shell.

What made me an Ancient.

How could it not be any clearer that both would be lost? Taken in one foul swoop. Clinging together while they were ripped free.

I hadn't needed to feed. The desire never once washing over me since that day in the office.  Putting it down to being forced only to think of escaping from that hell hole. 

Ones appetite left the building when under duress surely?

But now it made sense in a way. The peculiar look Niklaus gave me when boarding the plane.

That lack of ear deafening ache from listening to every minute sound. Ticking of wristwatches and pulsating hearts. None of it affected me. Falling into exhausted sleep. Only waking when I was shaken unceremoniously upon landing. 

The bloodthirsty side had left too. An inseparable part of what made me different. Born fighting between  two very opposing sides. All that now, dispersed. Gone. I could not be around my undead counterparts if this change was so apparent. Was I now a recluse? 

Stomach twisting nervously.

Things happened in bundles not singular events for me. Typical.

Muttering my predicament to the towering Norseman, I prepaired for the outcome.

"What the hell do you mean it's gone!?" He snarled. 

Not like I willingly gave up my essence or even lost it, some random pen or odd sock. His anger aimed fully at me. Uncaged parent scolding a child.

Okay, this was no purposeful act of defiance. Leave with strong power, come back weak as a kitten. What was wrong with him?  Did he think I was insane. 

His temper, Adding to  frustration already built there.

"Gone," I reiterated," g...o...n..e, vanito, caputsi."

Storming away from his blazing eyes. Temper flaring in pale nostrils. Fangs sliding down through gums as the emotion jackknifed in full.

Pulling open the fridge, I snatched out a blood bag. One that I'd been keeping on ice. Ignoring the clatter as Tru Blood bottles slammed against each other, throwing the door  shut.

"I assume you don't want it cold?" tone not wavering from displeasure. 

He hadn't even asked for refreshments, though it dawned on me that this particular Viking would need to feed. Not wanting to insult him with synthetic liquid. Although he supplied the stuff.

"Fuck the stupid bag," he responded,  crossing the living room debris to join me in the kitchen," tell me how this bloody happened."

Wordlessly I tore it open, emptying contents into a mug which promptly entered the microwave.

50 seconds, just the way he liked it. Slightly above room temperature. Almost human.

"What does it even matter," sorrow tipping through temper.

Manovering around the cross armed giant to take down a glass. Reaching for the vodka that was stashed for moments such as these. Pure, untainted, high volume vodka. Russian in origin. For they knew best how to make it. Something to bring  fire to the belly, emblaze the soul. Kick the ice from veins with one mouthful.

Swiveling open the cap with a satisfactory click, pure alcohol met my nose. Soothing in it's own assaulting way. Fragrant waves not as intense as I recalled, but working their charm. Soon memory would be devoid of thinking. The well of unshed tears building up would be obliterated  with drought. Who said bliss couldn't be seen from the bottom of a bottle?

"Don't pull that crap with me," Eric levelled. Taking the glass out of my range before a single drop sloshed into it's depth. 

Twarting my attempt to fill it. Glaring at the Norseman, defiantly, swigging straight from the neck. To hell with ridiculous manners. Surely he'd witnessed a woman or three chugging down jugs of ale. 

Ping alerting me that his beverage was heated suitably. I removed it. Sliding the mug across counter top to his still unmoving form.

Stopping the motion with a simple fingertip, bringing the cup to a smooth halt, hairsbreath from smashing down to the floor.

Well that was eerily calm.

Flicking steely eyes at me, he rose the red liquid to mouth, sipping pensively before continuing.

"Alicia I can smell him on you."

Vulgarity of the statement making it sound untoward, seedy even. Having to shake images of that room from recent memory. He had got me out of Gustafs clutches, but not before suitably humiliating myself. That was days ago. 

There was probably a stray hair or fiber hanging around causing the Vikings spidey sences to latch onto him. Scarcely enough to make such a big deal of, not like we had been together in the way he was making out. 

"Goddamnit Eric," my exclamation in complete annoyance," let it go."

"Then give me the bottle," he reasoned. 

Leaning an elbow casually on speckled, marble work surface. He knew I wasn't about to give into such a reasonable request. Using a flicker of psychology  with his tone. Apparently cooling down a bit, or giving the pretext of such. In the hope I'd mirror him. 

Catch more bees with honey after all.

"No," swigging deep again. 

Petulant. Stropping like a pre-pubescant teen. Stifling a cough as my throat came alive with furious heat. Bloody mortal shell! What kind of soft vessel couldn't handle alcoholic spirits. Just wait till I hammered down some Absinthe, or paint stripping home brewed concoction. 

"Stop being such a child," he replied, following the stalk I made back into the sitting room,"allow me to help. What has he done?"

"Nothing," a total lie of course. 

When was the hybrid ever innocent. Eric's knotted eyebrow urging me to change course and give a more honest response. 

Sighing," he left me ok. Thats all. Ditched at the airport. Gentleman that he is. Left and never came back."

Flopping down onto the only semi decent spot on destroyed couch. 

I rubbed wearily at teary eyes,' not now, not again,' the curse an inward one. Flaming hormonal imbalance one I wasn't used to feeling in such acuteness. 

Cheers life.

Gulping another mouthful of clear, potent liquid.

"The wolf brought you home?" he questioned, not following my train of thought fully.

Rolling my eyes. Should explain the scent, work with me here. Impatient at my friend. One well versed to the more animal traits I sometimes displayed.

"Yes Eric," I whispered, before clueing him in on half of the chain of events. 

Not wanting the Viking to go nuclear if everything became spilled. Full story enough to make him explode, handing New Orleans on a silver platter.

"That meeting I spoke of. Well it was a trap. Bloody Sedir was a lying fool, could have been working for them all along." Maybe even been fed certain facts to get me more inclined to believe him. Fall hook and line for the drivel dished out in cryptic heaploads."Things went belly up. He found me," shuddering at the reminder," in this dive south of bloody Amsterdam. Niklaus, he got me out of there. Then hey, Mr Charmings job ended as soon as we landed. Not even a wave. Camille beckoned no doubt. C'est la vie." 

Leaving out completely that it was the hybrids conniving that lost me my powers in the first place. Norseman had enough to deal with. Pam had kept me clued in on the reappearance of Sookie. A certain young waitress, who'd now set sights on pursuing a wolf pack. Trying to get answers about her kind and save a friend in the process.

It seemed her relative Faes were too tight lipped and innocent for her liking. She yearned for the more blood thirsty pals. 

And by friend I was being ever so blasee. It was Bill, Mr Compton, her would be fiance had been vamp-napped. Chuckling calously to myself, marrying the undead, what was the world coming to? 

Still equal rights for immortals were one thing attempting to be implemented  by our current leaders. 

The Viking couldn't be pleased about the, for now on hold, impending nuptials. After all it was Pam who had passed on the news. Somewhat gleefully via e-mail, and phone combined.

She labored under false hope. That things would be back to normal if he saw Miss Stackhouse as the one that got away. 

Sadly for his progeny, I had a feeling the opposite would in fact be true. He would remain obsessed.

None, especially one fated to be his mate would slip past the Norseman. 

"I'll get Dr Ludwig to give you a once over," he said emptying the final dregs of blood from his mug. 

Shaking my head," no, honestly Eric I'm fine. Its just weird being mortal....it's so....uuuggh frustrating. "

"She may prove helpful."

"There's only one who could understand this," I argued lowly," Merete. I need to find her. Set all this right if possible."

Standing fully upright, he smirked thinly," sounds like a plan. When do we leave?"

"We' don't. Have you forgotten about Miss Stackhouse."

He cast a distracted look my way," can you hold off on this. Until I get back with her."

"Look, I'm a big girl. Sookie needs you," pausing to think. Phrase things in such a way to convince him that he didn't need to chaperone me., " she faces down Weres. You of all know how dangerous they can be. I'll be fine. I approach a friend for aid. You're not required to attend both." 

Tipping forehead to mine he agreed," you'll keep me posted."

Never recalling his flesh to be this cold. I shivered momentarily, meeting the pastel orbs," every step."

This satisfied the Viking enough. I was a millennia old after all. Should have known better than to make such a rookie mistake. I knew what dangers lurked, could even prepair for them. The journey I needed to make, may very well have a time stamp.

One which I hoped hadn't expired. Wishing with all that I was, every atom and monocule to be what I once was.

An ancient.

An utterly pointless endeavor, each time winding up with nothing to show for it. No more than the taunting voices in my head.

Liars, traitors, degenerates I was surrounded by them. Little wonder I took to the caves. At least in nature dog eat dog was commonplace. How I yearned for those easy days.

Wild, bleak, oftentime uneventful easy days.

 


	14. One Moment In New Orleans

"And how did that make you feel?"Camille said. Trying to keep an impassive tone. But Niklaus knew from the rythym of her heart that the woman was far from unaffected. His quiet, querying gaze misconstrued in entirety. He was aware of whom she spoke about and why, but she pressed on, "leaving Alicia? You must have felt something... "

Niklaus fingers moved from where they had been tracing his lower lip, "that's a huge assumption. After everything you know of me thus far. Why would anything effect me. I've done far worse, in fact I believe you admonished my urge to spill blood on numerous occasions... "

She crossed her legs at the knee.

Shifting slightly, "your evading the question. This isn't about the bodies you've dropped to date, but something much simpler. All I wanted to know is what went through your mind when you abandoned her. "

He sighed getting sharply to his feet, "need I remind you, she is centuries old. And to abandon, one must first claim responsibility. Which I did not."

"Oh,"she challenged, angling her face up, squinting,"so flying back out there and collecting her was what?"

"Impatience,"he snipped, "she hadn't returned. I felt obliged to end that ridiculous excursion in a prompt manner. "

"'Obliged' would hint at you taking ownership of her misfortune. Perhaps even a feeling of guilt... "

"No,"the curt answer pronuncinated with a flick of his wrist," there is no such repentance. Over what, taking an ability she herself seemed hell bent on getting rid of."

"But did she?"Camille prodded on, "this power of Alicia's, has she ever actually mentioned detesting it?"

His orbs drew up and over the beautiful face in front of him, so full of concern. Chipping away to unearth answers. Attempting to get him to understand himself,  why he acted in deplorable ways. 

But Niklaus already had his own ideas. After an eternity living in his own head. He had come to the uneasy conclusion that he was some form of sadist. He wanted the world to fear him. And wasn't one to shy away from making that happen, through whatever means necessary. 

For some messed up reason, he believed that, fear and respect came as a coupling. After all had his father, the Great Destroyer, not got reams of servitude while being ultimately feared. 

Having been on the kneeling side. The one bowing with respect, he wished never to do so again.  His name would be the one to echo throughout the ages, as the Mikaelson to truly quake from. 

He wanted that and so much more. 

In summary. 

No more bastard son, than Hybrid wonder.

He was the start of a new breed. One to rival others. The world would be his kingdom. And every citizen his playthings. Let his father try to wipe such royalty from exhistance. It would prove to be an unachievable feat. 

"Why are we even speaking of this,"he ranted getting annoyed, "should we not get back onto completing my memoirs?"

After all that's what she had been doing until, rather strangely stopping typing to question him.

Over a girl no less. One he may have known eyons ago, through the actions of his rambunctious sister Rebekah. 

What did it matter now how he felt over stripping things from her. It wasn't the first time he'd broken that woman. She'd survive somehow back then, surely the same could be said of now. 

Considering the lack of shadows skulking his home, Alicia had probably gone back to Shreveport and that knuckle dragging Viking of hers. 

How she could put such faith into that man, yet not here with his family baffled him. They'd grown up side by side almost. Surely that made them more suitable companions than a mismatched nest of vampires. The duo she chose hardly eloquent enough. They were after all club owners.  A questionable establishment at that.

It was possible that they were more than mere nestmates. Vampires had been known to blur the lines of relationships often enough. And Mr Northman himself had eluded to knowing Alicia quite intimately. 

Possibly the same could be said of that Pamela woman. She seemed to enjoy the company of females and men alike. Did they all share more than kinship? How free exactly was the spirit of an Ancient? 

He was familiar with the dynamics of such trysts. Seeing a harem or two in his day. Lines would be virtually non exhistant with ex-brothel owners and verile Vikings. It was entirely possible that they all knew each other in the biblical sence. 

That made him squeamish picturing them together.

So he quashed the irritable thought down. 

Besides there were more pressing matters irking him.

His brother had vanished. The sole inhabitants of the compound on his return were Jackson, Hayley and his daughter. Niklaus was glad that Elijah at least had the fortitude to position guards in his stead. Their home needed protection. There were plenty out for revenge or leverage.

So many enemies Niklaus could scarcely keep track of them all. And alligences were forming at alarming rates.

'The enemy of my enemy, ectera.'

At least the vampires who remained loyal to them, the Mikaelsons, had done a good job in keeping eyes on his most precious cargo. Hope. 

Still everything considered, he remained angry with his brother. Vanishing off, quite like Rebekah had. It made him uneasy. Anxious. Yet Camille seemed to fixate on trivial matters. 

Crunching up the tiny ball of fright that whispered through. They seemed to be leaving him. His family. The scared little boy inside, hated being alone. That was why he'd carted around his siblings while they were daggered. So he could easily look on them should the need be. Oftentimes visiting their coffins and statuesque bodies to speak with them. His sponge like counsel. 

After a few decades he'd get so saddened with flitting acquaintances, Niklaus would bring them back. Inwardly revelling in their companionship once more, weathering out storms of their temper. For he knew they couldn't stay mad at him for long. And they would soon be back in their, 'Always and Forever' groove. 

Of course sometimes they'd pursue their own interests. But always at least one sibling would remain close to him. With both Rebekah and Elijah MIA, he felt that pang of loneliness. Were they off living quite happily, minus their head case of a brother? 

"This isn't a therapy session, "he felt the need to remind Camille. 

Shirking out of his inner monologue. If she continued speaking of 'feelings', the woman would come precariously close to unearthing 'abandonment' issues he kept hidden. 

She shook her head, "honestly why am I even doing this?At the start you wanted to be completely open. Tell your story. But if you start picking and choosing the 'best bits' I won't be able to continue."

"Best bits?" he repeated.

Hardly thinking there were any such highlights. 

"Yes, you can't erase half of your dealings because they make you look bad. It's what will engage people, give some insight into how human you actually are... "

He shifted, sharply. Leaning down to push his face up close to hers. Hearing her heart speed up with satisfaction. And those almost innocent blue eyes dart to his lips. 

She knew from the start that his tales were not meant for public consumption. More so his own private collection. So Niklaus saw little reason for himself to appear 'mortal'. 

Unless it made her feel comfortable.

He knew she saw the best in everyone, even his diabolical self. There was cause to remind her of just the kind of creature she was dealing with. 

"I'm far from human Camille, you of all people know that. It would be a mistake to think therapy could change things. I'm a killer, monster, not some broken soul in need of rescue."

A flit of temper dashed through her. And he noticed a small spark where her fingers gripped the arms of the chair she sat on. A magical surge of electricity. Similar to the Ancient she'd gotten the power from. 

"No one is beyond rescue or indeed a monster, "she strove. Eyes moving in succession from his own unwavering ones to his mouth a couple more times. 

His chest filled with a certain darkness. She wanted to kiss him. Or more pertinently for him to make the move.

A shyness held her back. 

Or he mused internally, maybe it was a niggling attempt not to cross some professional line. They had began as patient and therapist. Although Niklaus hardly looked at himself as patient material. 

The very word denoted sickness. He was far from ill. 

Stood here inches from those glossy pink lips, he was positively glowing. The epitome of wellness itself. He fought the urge to show her exactly how much. 

Instead he moved closer, so that their breaths were catching midair, "are you the one to save me?"

He mused wistfully, aloud. The murmer making her skin prickle. Exactly as he knew it would. He enjoyed the subtle changes he could solicit. 

And then she did something he wasn't expecting. 

The woman who usually froze, eagerly awaiting his ambush, moved. 

Obliterating the space between them before he could blink. 

Her lips meeting his with surity. Taken by surprise Niklaus found himself momentarily lost. 

He had meant to provoke her of course, but her forwardness was out of the ordinary. Veins pulsing. 

Had he teased too much? In his quest to build up her expectation, pushed too hard, causing her to stumble over a ledge. 

He met her increased exploration head on. Eagerly. Enjoying the press of her mouth on his. She tasted exquisite. 

Inhaling the smell of her lightly, floral toned perfume. 

Small hands locked around his neck holding him in place. Investigating softly the flesh under her finger tips.

He had flashes of those hands unearthing more. The images seering themselves subliminally across his mind. Teasingly.

Niklaus angled nearer. Running a palm across her cheek, almost suggestively. Feeling her skin respond immediately. Like it craved his touch. 

Her tongue probed slowly, enticing his slightly open mouth to let her in. 

But it was at this moment he chose to back up. 

She had ignited a fire that he had kindling for her for some time. But his raging heat would not be quenched tonight. 

No, Niklaus wished to wine and dine her. Camille was a lady and needed to be treated as such. Not ravaged in his study. 

His darkened orbs seemed to catch her off guard. Her panted exhale making him smirk slightly. 

Yes, sweetheart, that's how much you've effected me. 

He could feel the pulses constricting around his body. Knowing that she was seeing his deepened eyesockets up close for the first time. Wonder etching through her. 

Her hand instinctively moving to trace along the line above his left cheek bone. 

"Is it painful, "she breathed. Examining the veins that flowed with darker blood. Giving his flesh that hollowed out appearance. 

He chuckled, but by God she was beautiful, pure, "no, Camille not in the slightest. "

Straightening up, he stepped back from the chair. And their shared moment. She seemed at a loss of what to say. 

Drawing himself back into a state he hoped seemed unaffected. Though blood still raged around his body. Electrical charge sparking his flesh to sensitive life. Pinpricks of endorphins bringing his primal beast forward. He could just loose himself in her. That innocence.

She couldn't witness him without composure. Not yet. He had to be sure she truly knew him. Was ready for such a connection. 

Niklaus strode to the window. Peering out at the street of New Orleans. 

"Now, shall we continue,"he stated falling back into a story he'd began some time ago, "Kol was eager to explore Venice. But of course we erred on the cautious side, given his previous behaviour. Our accommodation needed to be less central to the city, but still exquisite enough for people of our station..."

He paused, hearing her tentatively begin typing once more. Giving the woman chance to catch up with him. He knew she probably wanted to talk about what just happened between them. And was glad that she simply chose not to for now. This could be tackled at a later date, when he wasn't so wrapped up with ten trains of other thoughts. All angling for the same station, yet on different trajectories.

The hybrid relaxed minutely. They were at least back to the mundane. His need to note down parts of his vast life.

Control his once more. She wouldn't notice his wayward thoughts while transcribing details of a trip enturies ago. Now he could begin taking apart the puzzle of recent events in his mind. 

There was more plotting afoot. He was sure of it. This time he hoped his siblings weren't behind it. 


	15. Time To Think

 

Turning down the dirt road I pulled the rear view up higher. Adjusting it to adiquetly see. Shifting up into the next gear to gain speed. 

Eric was correct about one thing the nights were getting darker. He was set against me coming into the club today, especially after said meltdown. 

And given the fact that I had other, 'important' matters to deal with. 

But I'd put off heading towards Merete just yet. The practicality of being mortal. Needing a good sleep and clear head. A day or so to gather both my clothing and thoughts. Once the plan of action had been looked at from all angles I would feel safer moving forward. 

I had to err on the cautious side. Which was an oddly new yet profoundly scary notion. 

This new nest of 'mortal' emotions were tangling together. Leaving me with a heightened degree of nervousness and anxiety. If I died now. That was it. Forever. 

A sentiment which should have been oddly comforting. Yet only fear presented itself. 

The weight of my talisman offering little solice. My parents seemed more like cold metal than a warming presence. This was all that was left. Ashes, blood and a fading memory. Thinking morbidly over how I'd be remembered. Deciding that I wanted to be laid to rest somewhere freeing. Where spirit could bask in pure nature. 

This thought process would make both Eric and Pam angry. As if giving up. So it was best to drag myself from them. Shocked at how easy it had been to fall into pit of defeat.

'Buck up Alicia, there's still fight left.'

'He has to pay.'

'At your hands, truly pay.'

My inhale getting steadier, listening to my inner voice. She was pushing me on as best she could. 

Whispering words of retribution. Their fire would keep me moving, until last breath. 

Godrics passing still brough forth wounds. My Shreveport kin would be further depleted but they'd bounce back. I owed them both so much. For saving me. Becoming kin, walking a path next to mine as decades spread out before us. 

I could at least make sure to defer that sadness for as long as mortally possible. 

Having to stop myself from chewing my fingernails down to a stub as I sat worrying over the state of my life. 

Maybe being in the club, in the bosom of the familiar feelings of despair would abate. Offer some respite. 

It was obvious why Eric was so against me being in Fangtasia. His innane urge to keep me safe under vampiric wings. Secreted safely away from potential danger. 

Pam was more realistic, giving a call twenty minutes ago asking if I could cover the office. They were badly understaffed. In need of one they could trust to cover it. Business still ran while the club was open. 

A heated debate continued online. 

Three way conversation being established through loudspeaker. 

I was drawn into a small uneasy chuckle. 

It seemed his progeny bested him during this round. Her stony stubbornness winning out with pure reasonbacking it. 

It was agreed rather surly, that I'd stay behind the scenes. Out of ear and nose shot of those who knew exactly what I should be. A changed state would bring unwanted attention. And the interest of the Authority could be next. 

For how could one dead, appear as living. It would bring to the forefront not only past witchcraft but Eric's part in hiding what I truly was. 

So being chained to the computer tonight was welcomed with open arms. Given said changes in essence, I'd be more comfortable. 

The Norseman had explained current situation to our more colorful nestmate. Though Pam seemed to be saving any 'advice' for a face to face encounter. I psyched myself up for it. Her tongue was honest and sharp. 

Hearing the crunch of gravel steadily breaking under wheel I leaned onto the cushioned window jamb. Steering one handed while shirking hair off my face. 

Heck a night off spiraling in depression would be alright. I could hit the trail tomorrow,  hating the fact that I was dragging my feet. Procrastinating over meeting Merete. My mind wavered between numerous thoughts. How was Miss O Connell getting on with her new powers. 

After centuries of living I had enough sense to cover my essence with a cloak.  Dumbing down the magic so as not to pique the interest of surrounding witches. 

That woman didn't know that magic spoke out, sending up beakons to others who were similarly inclined. Chewing a nail distractedly, would the Mikaelsons protect her from any of the local coven that came forward. From Davina herself? 

The flash of lights behind forcing me out of such thoughts. 

Whoever was driving back there was taking a perilous path. Kissing the edges of the country roads. The registration seemed to be from out of state. 

Squinting in an effort to make out the driver. But the descending light and glare showed shadowy outline. My heart shifted irrationally.  

Getting edgy, nudging conspiratorially that they were spectres come alive from my nightmare. The most recent one from the plane. Shrugging the notion off as ridiculous. Fingernails biting into the steering wheel. My mind playing tricks in the best way it knew possible. 

Giving the vehicle another long observation. Collecting data in an obsessed way. The snapshot squirreled away in a file marked 'Unidentified'.  Another bit of information which would probably be thrashed later when paranoia left. 

I only hoped they took care, these lanes could twist out and surprise you. Putting a little more distance between us the car forked off. Allowing me to relax. 

'Good luck buddy,' I was pretty sure they were headed to wards one of my more gnarled neighbours. An old seadog who'd come back ravaged from the wars with little more than a chip on his shoulder. 

Whichever visitor headed his way now was taking life into their own hands. 

Again. 

He wasn't exactly friendly. Any brushes I'd had with him a short clipped affair. I was thankful that he agreed to the changes I'd proposed to our one a joining field. Planting some bushes and young trees to replenish places where the soil had become bare. Giving more coverage for the wildlife living there. At least he had a soft spot for animals. 

At least he couldn't be faulted much. His dislike was for humans. Not our natural, four legged or winged commerades. History had made him weary, maybe I would become more like him as I aged. 

Who would blame me at this stage? My so called friends were proving unreliable and devious at best. 

Ploughing onwards, forest blurred past. 

**

Sighing in a slumped manner when the familiar sight of Fangtasia staff car park came into view.

Was this what 'coming home' was like? Not so much the building itself but the people inside. My kin, Pam and Eric. A whisper of ease fell over me. Though this was no happy turn of events, me coming back from overseas minus magic, I knew that underneath all their chastising there was concern. And, dare I hope even a tinge of something resembling love. For I in turn truly adored them as family. Bloodthirsty or not. Hopefully the same could be said from their standpoint.   
Putting those thoughts aside.

I swung into a vacant space. One which was bigger than the others. Ample room for this vehicle that I'd been lumbered with from a helpful Marcel. 

Inconspicuous indeed. What he Had meant was perfect for carrying around a coffin. Just left out a few choice words here or there. And I hadn't argued. Still on a rather tentative high that Rebekah had specifically asked for me to take care of her. Lying to myself that I'd felt duty bound. No, pride. She still trusted me after almost an eternity apart. It ignited the trickle of comradery we'd shared growing up.

'You have my back sister, & I'll have yours.'

Letting the keys slide from my palm down into my handbag. I gave the chassis a little tap wishing inately that my trusty Chevy hadn't been so banged up. 

Abruptly halting my footfalls moments later.

No sooner had I turned towards the back door. An unusual sight met my eyes. 

A glint of metal that caught the light just right. Beautiful in it's silent presence. 

Here, how?

A wash of relief bathed by the presence. The very possession I'd just been seeing in my mind. There she was in one gleaming piece. Besides a slight ding on the front bumper, looking none the worse for wear. Trusty, reliable. No matter how many hours of painstaking labour went into her, she always bounced back. 

Comparing her physical damages to my hidden emotional ones. No wonder I loved that car. We were one and the same. Battered by the world but fighting on regardless. 

Pulling gaze up and off her to the figure casting shadow on the ground. 

Meeting the and only somber face of Elijah Mikaelson. He was leaned against my car. Keys spinning around and jingling on his long fingers. Blinking a couple of times. Running orbs over his form questioning. His dark suit was slightly crumpled. A look of grimness to his face. Making him appear older. 

The whole scenario opening up at once. Not only had he made the long trip out but he'd probably been waiting for me. 

"Mz Ballo," he exhaled. 

Getting up gracefully to approach my statuesque body. Keeping me at arms length. Forgoing a hug to squeeze my upper arms in an affectionate manner instead. It was a comforting gesture nonetheless. A tad formal but appreciated. Despite the unease around our current meeting, he still felt the need to offer that sliver of friendship. 

Slight glimmer of relief backed his eyes. And although I was loath to admit it, a wash of something similar ran through me. A tinge of joy upon seeing his ever graceful form. 

We had been close once. Though arguably not near anything myself and Rebakah shared.   
He still remained a familiar friend. One who'd often offered counsel in times past.

Though immortal his face seemed to lack it's usual youth like appearance. Seeming older than when we'd last spoke. Maybe it was just tiredness or family woes eating away at him.

Did he know of his brothers most recent acts? Was that one of the reasons that brought him to this place. 

"Good evening Elijah."

I stood quiet for a moment. Waiting to see which trail our conversation would take. 

"It's good to see you've returned from your travels. Safe journey I hope?"

His tone steady. Oddly calm. 

"Bit of turbulence, as one would expect. Slept through it mostly," I responded, giving a pretext of normality,"to what do I owe this pleasure?"

His brow quirked. Catching the undertone of snideness that accompanied my inquiry. 

There were two reasons for such an apparition.

Both sibling related. 

Scrunching my fist up anxiously. A realization crept up. Hitting in from out of the blue. 

And that made three.

The inseperable 'Always & Forever ' trio had all now stomped through Shreveport. Maybe not descending all at once, but enough to cause more than a ripple in the pool of crazed immortals that owned our realm. 

Damnation, this was the absolute last thing on anyone's list of necessities right about now. How to  best hide away an Original from ever observant creatures of the night? 

Getting uneasy, hearing voices of patrons caught on the air. Floating towards us, dancing tauntingly on the breeze. 

Was there no way I could keep the Mikaelsons cloaked from this faction of vampire life? 

These weren't exactly run of the mill blood suckers. And they didn't take to who they deemed 'posers'. Vampires who held daylight rings were just asking for trouble. 

Eyes darting to the signature band on his finger. Maybe he could be convinced to remove it. Just for now. But then I'd be drawn into telling him why. Explaining the archaic rituals still practiced in 80% of vampiredom. Then there was the Government, Laws and Sherifs to discuss not to mention Tru Blood. 

How would he fare finding out that Eric North man was reigning official over Louisiana. After all Area 5 included that slice of heaven called New Orleans. So technically the Mikaelson dominion fell under Vikings rule. Eric's rule. 

Uh, my head just spun thinking of it all. 

"Marcellus was in possession of your car, I'm here to return it"  he stepped casually around me. Examining the big vehicle I'd driven up in. "This seems an ill exchange."

His index pointing to the hulking brute infront of him. 

"Elijah,"I steadied my tone, "what is this really about? You hardly came all this way for a vehicle."

Stubbornly he continued on, "so do you car pool. It's more than enough space for one. "

"Carpool?" my mock innocence causing sharp brown orbs to meet mine, "you needing a lift somewhere? Say the words, I'll be happy to accommodate you.... and your friends?"

Knowing full well that I was playing a precarious game. Mocking him. But for some insane reason I didn't care all that much. Growing weary of dancing around the obvious. Out with it already. 

His lips pursed, "how fortunate to hear you're in the sharing mood Alicia. Now may I enquire to the whereabouts of my sister?"

'Which one?' I felt tempted to ask. His dead sibling seemed awfully quiet since that dealing in Malcoms office, and the vampiric one was in the wind. Doing good knows what in a mortal body. Thankful that he didn't want to labour this out. 

"Your stamp is all over the hospital," he continued on, leaning forearms against the roof of the truck with a displeased look on his face, "I cannot believe you helped Rebekah procure a body."

I scoffed, 'procure'. My part had been limited to helping her jump ship into a new form, not finding said vessel. Just how devious did he think we were when left to our own devices, me and his sister. 

Our discussion was drawing some attention. The doors opening slight enough for Pam to edge out. Scowl on her face the size of the grand canyon.

"What the fuck're you doing back here?" 

Ruby nails digging into the corseted bones of her waist. 

He shot her a smiled greeting, full of reigned in temper, "missed the ambiance. Seems Mz Ballo cut short her holiday, were you mistaken earlier when we spoke?"

Shifting sharply she confronted him, "do I look like her bloody keeper?"

Arching an amused eyebrow,"no. But kin, perhaps even mother."

My mouth opened slightly in shock. What in the hell? 

Her lip twitched at the mere suggestion that she looked old enough to be anyone's parent let alone mine. Flicking some blond ringlets off her shoulder with a dismissive jerk. 

"MILF, what a kinky notion. Sadly were friends, sorry to burst your bubble."

"Pama you wound me so," he snorted derisively.

Running brown orbs in a bored way over her outfit. Moving in a smooth way to readjust his cuff links. Standing tall and unaffected. Finding to her dismay that she may have lost this round with the stag. 

Heaving a dismissive sigh, she turned attention my way,"computers playing up. Our time sheets for next week will have to be done the by hand. Paperwork and the bills made up for Tuesdays delivery okay? Got the weekend covered. And AdHoc Freight will be handling things from now on, they need a call back. You good?"

I nodded, being used to her brashness. But Elijah pickled. The abrasive question, slash order made him frown. 

Hiding a smirk, knowing what he was thinking. How could I, a millennia old immortal let this younger vampire tell me what to do. 

Dynamics of our nest ran smoothly. That is, once we'd worked through the stonefaced temperament and stubbornness we all possessed in varying levels. Character so alike yet not so. 

Similar to the family of Mikaelson. Every one knew their rank and positions. Although we fought to change them once in a while. 

This was a rare calm spell. Too much drama with faes and immortals rendered us in quiet accord with one another. Why draw more anguish to an already antagonized situation. We buckled down and helped each other. If that included falling into place, taking, rather than giving orders. So be it. 

He should see some shred of rationality there. In his less than agreeable mood right now, simple things like this may set off the tongue he usually kept leashed for peacekeeping. He was annoyed at being left out of some ill-conceived loop regarding Rebekah. Level headed ness was questionable. 

"Sorry to intrude," Elijah said with such heightened levels of sarcasm,"we were conducting a conversation. Could this possibly wait....until she, how do they phrase it, ah yes, 'clocks' in."

Pam gave him a gravelly stare."she doesn't HAVE to clock in. And whatever pissy fang drama you're having can be stowed until later."

She was attempting to aggravate him. Shove the original into a box. Show him exactly where he appeared in the pecking order. Which was beneath low on her pyramid chart. 

"I'm manning the office tonight right?" She nodded,"we'll converse with Mr Mikaelson there, away from prying ears."

She sighed loudly, mulling over what I meant. Of course it was because of our patrons, those of the vampire kind at least. Humans wouldn't pay much notice to yet another vampire. Even if said immortal was the Adonis that was Elijah. 

But those undead would pay him great, unnecessary heed. Wasn't often a member of the original family presented themselves in their midst. They would do more than speak with him. 

After all, science might dictate that they take him apart. See what made his witch made immortality tick.

Plus there was the added hassle of my magical ways being gone.I couldn't exactly place if any witches were among us, and necromancers were undeniably conniving. Especially if they thought they could control him enough to replicate what Esther had done centuries ago.

"Fine,"she jarred, turning to yank the door open. Beckoning with a nod that we should follow,"just don't expect Eric to be too fucking happy about it."

Shooting her a sideways glance,"I'll talk to him..."

"Damn right you will, you're already in the shitter I ain't joining you."

"Crass as always,"Elijah drolled, lips thinning out even more, "has that mouth of yours ever been washed out?"

"Sure," she smirked giving him a devious glare, "in fact Yvette was happy to oblige hours ago. She's always so giving. Only sorry you missed it."

My cheeks heated at her flat out confession. Made to shock. 

But Elijah merely smirked. Eyes dead set on the corridoor. If he was surprised at her antics it clearly didn't show. 

I coughed lowly getting the blond woman's attention, "thanks Pam I can take it from here."

She chuckled throwing us one last glance over her shoulder. Heading for the club as we forked off into the office. 

"And honey, I'd avoid the printer if I was you. Haven't gotten around to shredding the evidence just yet, if you catch my drift."

Winking in that smutty way, clicking her tongue. 

Sighing I shook off thinking about what exactly they had gotten up to in this room. Closing over the door. It was time to deal with Elijah. Mz Swynfort de Beaufort would just have to wait. 


	16. Knock, Knock...

Logan wandered through the wood. Accumulating himself to the lay of the land. He'd parked his vehicle some twenty minutes drive away. 

Eyes tracing footsteps. They were the correct length and imprint for a woman of her frame. Keeping his own marks hidden in thick grass Logan stooped around bushes and trees to follow their path. Strangely flexible for a man of his big frame. Doubling over at points where the shrubbery dipped. Remaining unseen.

It had been instilled in him to cover his tracks. Keep off the grid. Even more now seeing as he was supposed to be a ghost. It didn't matter that he was hundreds of miles from Nerave or the Grand Convene even the pack.

This wolf never let go of his hyper sensitive wiles. The ones seeded in deep mistrust.

Some scents were picking up and growing stronger. Herbs.  
Logan stopped momentarily teasing his reflexes to weed them out. It was a game he liked to play. Quizzing himself and keeping senses sharp.

There was Rosemary, Baie. Typical for witches pantries.

Hyssop, ginger, undertones of Mugwort and what was that. He sniffed again. Anise, Yew and some Solomons seal.

His sinuses inhaled much more but was content enough that he'd distinguished those so far. Potent and plentiful as they were. A natural witches cupboard ripe to shop in. He applauded the resourcefulness.

Freshly planted saplings stood amongst other older monuments. Those of weeping willows and heaving birches alike.

This was definitely her domain. Plants had been added to the soil that were usually not found in this type of undergrowth. She had kept her private garden hidden, not in the 'preservation' range of acres but those closer to the house he assumed she owned.

Gritting his jaw in determination, Logan pressed forward. Moving slowly through the clearing. His trained orbs doing laser scope vision on surroundings. Unless they suddenly changed from serene to confrontational.

Sniffing to double check that she had no animals guarding the premises. His nose detected none. 

Logan crouched lower still, keeping bowed out of pure habit as he jimmied the door. Working expertly to unlock the glass entrance.

It's not like anyone was around to see intruders but just in case he covered his tracks.

Mack has sent him a picture of the ancient. The pixels hardly high quality, but enough for Logan to be able to positively identify the woman in the truck as the one he pursued.

He'd driven purposely close behind her. Squinting through the glare of car lights. Happy that his wolven vision could withstand the high beam.

That was her. And it appeared like she'd be gone for some time. Perfect chance for him to get a better insight into the woman. Work some recon.

Closing his eyes Logan distinguished the scents that hovered on the air of her living room. It looked a little worse for wear. As if some scuffle had taken place. No wonder she had been so vigilant of the vehicle tailing her own. Whatever went on within these walls must have set her on edge.

Her fragrance was the strongest. Although there was a vampires hanging around. It strangely brought thoughts of the sea to him. Saltlike, fresh. The Cologne of waves. Must have been some kind if sailor in his mortal life.  
So far as he could tell the immortal was aged.

Older, by at least a few centuries. There was something primal about it. Like those of a warrior. It posed a question best answered later. When he could sit and research at leisure. Time constraints were in play right now, so he refocused his senses. Latching back onto that of ancient.

She had bled. There was a hint of the metallic nodes vaping around. The incision would have been small. Hence the watered down nature of it's presence.

Logan was satisfied that whatever wound was nothing to worry about. Even though he knew Ancients could more than defend themselves, there was a change to her build up. It prickled the hairs on his forearms.

That damn Duchamp man had gotten to her first.

'Fuck it to hell,' he snarled balling up his fist. He'd deal with whatever that meant later. For now he had to know what she was about. See how she practiced her art. Whether one side prevailed over the other.

His nose picked up a few wolves. Two, possibly three. And a royal.

Wrinkling his orbs.

Confusing. He'd had word that that particular Alpha was dead.

Taking the stairs two at a time in haste, still letting his nose take the lead. Logan came over the traces that remained in the closet.

Gritting jaw tightly. That bloody hybrid. Opening the walk in structure and closing himself into it subconsciously.

Closing his orbs and breathing slowly. Flickers whispered into his minds eye.

Expecting to be engulfed by anger Logan was surprised to find calm. A calculated temper. As if whoever had been in here was expecting such an imprisonment.

The hybrid seemed mellow. Something bad been administered... A mixture of hemlock... Vervain.

There were thoughts so many humbling thoughts. Questions, fragments of feelings, memories. Blood, hate, so much crunched up fear. Superceeded, suppressed by the snippet of the side of a face. One partially obscured by sunlight. A shy smile. And big eyes.

Logan's orbs snapped open.

There was a mixture here. Remnants at least. He could sense it. Feeling blindly along a few shelves until he found a nodule that didn't belong.

To the far side of the back wall. So snug between shelf jam and corner that it would be easily overlooked. Pressing on it until there was a small click. Using an index fingernail to pry at the hole, searching for contents. Being no bigger than a large matchbox in size it was hard for him to manover around the space.

Cursing and perseverance paying off in dividends. Finding finally something small, but solid enough to grasp. Which he did gingerly for fear of knocking it further into the compartment than his large hands could reach.  
Pulling out a small plunger vial.

Logan stepped out into the light examining his find. Calamis. Scientifically extracted, high potency Calamis at that. Bane of wolf lives. That particular plant.

He pocketed it quickly. Backtracking his way out of the house. Running orbs over the ransacked furniture and walls. There was no sign of a Were fight or hybrid come to that. No telltale claw marks scratched into flooring or zigzagged across marble. No pungent aroma of wolven adrenaline. Save the whispers of temper that left imprints on the air.

She hadn't forcefully encountered his brethren. Nor had the vampire drawn forth wolf venom. Which meant that the royal and hybrid were present in more or less courteous manner. Any bickering had been in house. Wolf on wolf, which was more commonplace between hothead males than he cared to admit.

The Ancient seemed to keep questionable company. Yet none had fallen on her land. That filled in some of the blanks for now.

Shirking up the collar of his jacket. Logan wound his way back to his car. He needed to fully digest this information. That and a decent meal. 

****

I thought back over our conversation, if you could even describe it as one. With a mixture of irritation. Elijah had held his cool superbly given the circumstances.

Even though our topic seemed keen to swirl drain like around us. Sucking closer inwards, a noose to be answered before choking the life from us both.

The ever present query over one Rebekah Mikaelson.

"My sister, her whereabouts, now."

"How should I know," I smart mouthed back.

Drumming the table hoping that he'd somehow get it into his head I was being honest. She could be anywhere in the globe.

He cleared his throat, pulling out the slim cell from his breast pocket.  
Swiping it slowly before presenting the screen to me.

"This is you correct?"

I gave the grainy composition a cursory glance. 

Clearly recognising myself stood talking to a frowning Marcel.

I nodded, "why Elijah, you surprise me. Isn't Stalking so utterly beneath you?"

The spat out accusation making him shift with discomfort. Ultimately when the ends justified the means, what care had he for 'unseemly' avenues.

"Not me personally. But I do have ways of keeping track of family. If, and when the need arises."

'Yes, because that's so healthy and not 'stalker-y' in the least.'

The inner monologue amusing me.

I laughed, "yet Rebekah has dropped off the grid."

He gave me a gravely stare. "She had aide...yours to be exact."

I sighed. True she had procured my help but I was hardly on the position to rat her out. Even if I knew said whereabouts they wouldn't leave my lips.

"Its my belief kin should stick together, and as such a common courtesy would be letting each other know our plans."

"Tell me Elijah have you ever had this heartwarming conversation with your brother? You know, the one twisted enough to dagger at will?"

"Niklaus is...well, a rather exceptional circumstance.

I rolled my eyes sighing.

Maybe that is given the fact that he's the only sibling willing to take you on fully, whatever outcome be damned. He'd get his own way regardless. Rebellious as he was.

Family were loathe to call him into ranks. After all they'd face the sanctity of a coffin, should they suitably displease him.

A foot stomping, knife wielding 'exceptional circumstance' to all rules. Bravo Niklaus, I applauded, well played.

"Speaking of, how long do you expect it will be before he appears searching for her too."

My orbs snapped to his cool ones, "something tells me he has more pressing matters to deal with at present."

Whatever crazy concoction of a plan he needed a weaponized Camille for would be swinging into action soon enough. Players taking position on chess table. Could only hope she was a fast learner, one with an aptitude for magic.

"Quite. I am sorry about what he did..."

"Stop," I interrupted,"I don't want to deal with any hybrid/witch drama right now okay."

His apology meant little, words which should have been coming from the mouth of hybrid. Would have more chance of blood spontaneously oozing from stone first.

"Alicia," he said taking the customary stern tone," I have long considered you part of our clan.."

I strode over to him, pointing at the door on an exaggerated manner, "you recall Pam right? Eric? THEY are my family. We've been together for decades and despite a few bumps. They have NEVER let me down."

He put a somber hand on my shoulder, "putting Niklaus actions aside. Have I, or Rebekah?"

"No," I sniffed.

Feeling the well of emotions I'd hoped were all cried out of my system, returning in a startlingly fast manner.

God not again, not now. Stubbornly refusing to see how mortality was so much more bewildering than the cold bloodedness of vampirehood. Their feelings were intensified, surely a mortals should be a lot less potent. 

"Well then, our unit is just shaped differently. I do not wish to imply that we matter any more than them," he paused inhaling deeply, "only that we can All be considered part of your life."

He paused long enough to swipe a tissue from the box set beside our computer monitor.

The move as elegant as ever.

Bloody mortal emotions be damned. Dabbing swiftly I mopped up the stray tear from my cheek.

"Thank you Elijah."

He put his hands deep into trouser pockets. Staring around him with a indescribable look. Verging somewhere between confusion and surprise.

"It strikes me as odd that you would choose to work in such an establishment?"

'Choose' the very word made me smile. As if there'd ever been much of an option. Especially after we'd been dragged kicking to the States. Jobs found for all of us. Godric & Eric in particular given ranks from which they couldn't hide away. Not without the Council noticing. 

"Well technically," I murmured," I don't work here. Just help out now and again. "

"Ah," he nodded, "colourful place. This Pamela of yours, is quite a formidable essence."

I chuckled, "you can say that again."

He cleared his throat," I hate to labour on this point but if our sister does get in touch..."

"I'll let you know," my answer surprised. Noting how he let the 'our' hang that bit longer than absolutely necessary.

"There is one more stipulation," he said cautiously, "before I go. Would you be open to a house search?"

I eyed him skeptically, folding my arms. Thank god Rebekah wasn't on my land at all. The answer was easy, but I wasn't about to let him know that.

"Whatever for Elijah? This is just ridiculous, either you believe me, or you don't."

He tightened his mouth into a line.

"If I am to convince Niklaus that she is not in your presence I wish to do so without deceit."

I rolled my eyes, "convince? All you have to do is to give word, and he won't question you any further."

He was the elder out of the two was he not. This was beyond an age where he should appease to his little brother. None of us were  kids. 

Anyway, why should he be so upfront given his Niklaus obvious 'wrongs' of late. Why should Elijah care so much? 

"I'm confused, Is this the same brother we both speak of?"

"It is," I strove, "but I'm questioning now whether 'you' are in fact the same Elijah. Since when did you pander to his petty grievances?"

"If there is, in fact nothing to hide," he sneered, "why take this uncooperative stance?"

Goddamnit, here he was again, so reasonable. Faultless. Puzzle wise his thinking was sound. I needed to put emotions to one side. Be pragmatic.

"You forget my past acts, they are nothing when compared to those of your compound," my rant drawing a frustrated sigh from him. "But fine. If it will get you off my case by all means, search my home. Even the foundations if you must. Although it will have to wait until I've finished balancing the books."

He unbuttoned his suit jacket sitting down with exaggerated leisure. Gesturing for me to commence my work. A stance he kept throughout the three hour wait. Only budging to answer his cell and touch base with the caller.

An inflection I hadn't heard in quite a few years. The disconcerting twang of a rather questionable character.  
Aya.

  
What on gods green planet had he rang her for? Was that easily swayed woman one he needed on his side at the moment. She sounded enamoured which amused me immensely. Could only mean she hadn't fallen into his bed yet.

Give it time and that would change. Elijah's charm extended so far. And she would hang onto the promise of more regardless of any thing persuading her otherwise. I'd seen it before. History it seemed loved repetition. 

Judging by the content of their short conversation. This stag required a certain skill set. That of magic,  and it seemed she knew where best to source some 

I swallowed down the questions as to why he even be in need of any witches. If Elijah wished to play that particular card close to his chest, I didn't mind. Answers had a way of showing themselves eventually.

Given certain circumstances I wasn't opposed to waiting.

***

Elijah was aghast, frown line deep on his brow," did someone ransack the place?"

I smirked, throwing my house keys onto the side table.

"Twas by my own hand," I mused, leaving him standing in the doorway. Plenty of the debris had been cleaned up but some tell tale signs remained. Giving show that something was amiss. Things that would have had better placement had they not been chucked around.

He sighed," you, but with what cause?"

"Lost my temper," I explained, panning the living room quickly,"for a moment at least."

 "So I see."

"Come on in," I encouraged, throwing a joking invitation into the mess, "do have a look for Rebekah. But try not to disturb things too much. As you can see there's a theme running throughout this general living area. "

The suited man stepped inside sharply, " Mz Ballo I can put you in touch with a rather exceptional interior decorator  if you'd like. Or perhaps a wrecking crew would be more suitable at this stage."

"Oh ha ha." The remark drawing out a lopsided smile from him. 

Walking to my kitchen counter I promptly pulled myself up and onto the cool marble. Giving the stag his desired space and time to search my abode to his content. 

Poor Elijah, wrong place on so many levels. Relaxing in the knowledge that she was safety stowed away from any such excavations. In a place know only to us. Two young girls with dreams of freedom. How our childish dreams paid off at times such as these was startling. But amusing all the same. 

The universe had uncanny ways of offering protection. Like stories imagined as youths helping us out of jambs in the here and now.  Strange how that worked out. 


	17. It'll Only Take But A Second...

Alicia stood silent. Watching the snail paced movements of clouds through ashen skies.

For a moment she lost track of herself. Oddly at one with the darkness. The solitude of her home meant nothing could permeate the heavy quiet.

Breeze nudged at the trees. Causing spectres of shadows to crane like marked fingers into the skyline. From time to time the distant sounds of birds caught her ears. Knotted up in those muffled noises made by squirrels and whatever other animals drew out on a night like this.

Her feet had carried her, of their on volition out of the kitchen through looming doors that opened onto her vast expanse of clearing. That garden she loved so much. If truth be told it was the main reason she ever considered laying roots in this town. It reminded her of her youth. Most of it spent in forest quite like the one that sat at the end of her property line.

Breathing deeply she sighed. Giving herself fully to the air. This was a moment in which she actually didn't mind being mortal. The thought of those silhouetted trees and fauna still continuing their stations long after she'd shuffled this mortal coil. Humbling. Bringing peace to her core.

Now with no more attachment to the witches or spirits of magic, her soul wouldn't join them. She couldn't be drawn out with any eloquent wording or spells. The connection of magic gone. She had no well of power to tap into. Fingering the chain around her neck. She found her parents placement. Their last remains resting close to her heart. A smile toyed with her cheeks. She could join them. They would be family in the afterlife. And what a repose that would be. Eternity was a lonely stretch and it was hazardous to go it alone.

A chill bit at her extremities. Leaving without a coat, or shawl the weather claimed what little warmth remained off her skin. Happiness bled into her veins.

Mortality.

It was raw, a bumper ride. But in the end made her feel more thankful for the earth. For her friends and kin. They took on a new light. Secretly accepting this twist that fate, that a certain hybrid had forced upon her. After all, if there was only the present, and the future dusted in uncertainties. What was there to do but dance in the rain. Enjoy it. So she continued for an age to languish in this bracket of calm. As long as it lasted she'd stand. Moments like this were fleeting.

****

He had heard the crunch of gravel whilst investigating the land. Something had compelled him to hang around. Instead of vanishing off like originally planned there was a pull keeping him anchored here. Eyes drawn to the lights coming on in the entrance. The woman had moved in quickly strain showed in her actions. Followed by a suited man.

Logan recognised the features immediately as those of Mikaelson. He had to fight an urge to approach right now. That family in general brought too much baggage. He'd heard of their escapades been privy to a couple himself on one unfortunate trip to Römer. Changing what should have been a nice visit to Frankfurt into something else entirely. The Ancient had moved out of his vision towards the direction of the kitchen. He saw her boots kick up and the periodic swinging of feet. He assumed she must have taken seat on a chair or table. Where she remained unmoving. Whilst the storm that was Elijah Mikaelson moved freely through each room.

Craning his neck the wolf watched shadowed movements. Spiriting methodically through the top of the house.  What appeared to be the attic. Before going through the second floor, with a calm demeanor. Hairs rose on Logan's back. His neck itched with their torment. Vampires irked him. Made his skin come alive in the worse way. On base instinct,  his body sought to make itself bigger. Extending limbs and follicles to appear a much larger foe. 

Logan let an uneasy grunt. What he couldn't change he would endure. Such was the twisted tale of his animal body. 

The Mikaelson was on a hunt. A search that took longer than expected, for someone of his kind.

Logan had moved when the original looked as if he would descend on the landscape. Yet all the vampire did was cast quick gaze around for any other structure. What he sought needed to be hidden in a building apparently. There was chatter before he departed.

A heavy sounding truck backed off and whispered into the distance. The wolf found himself breath in relief. Anxious adrenaline had been coursing through his veins for the duration. These immortals had no clue that they had been watched. Closely. He was building up a better picture of the woman in his mind. So her connection to that particular family seemed sketchy. Especially given what he'd  seen.

Could hardly be friends of hers. They sought answers so adamantly it bordered on demanding. Any tiredness from jet-lag was brushed aside, for it was of no concern to them. Their suspicions must have been great. Enough to come and investigate her this very instance, despite the lateness of hour. Since her arrival back on home land much had been demanded. From numerous directions. 

Interesting.

He was mulling it over fully when light caught his sights. The glass door slid open. Logan froze. For a moment he thought she'd seen him. Her eyes surveying the landscape. But the woman didn't do more than turn that gaze towards the heavens. Smiling to herself. Stood barefoot on the threshold of her doorway. Flesh heavily goosepimpled from the cold. Yet she seemed peaceful. And he couldn't help examining every aspect that made her up. From what he could see in the moonlight. Beneath that exterior she was fragile. Weaker under that vision of toughness.

The woman who had dared come through his ravaged lands. Bared a firearm. Approached a Seer. She was not what her had expected at all. For some reason Logan pictured a very strong, commandeering person, one he'd clash with for little to nothing. He could still be mistaken of course. Even warring Emperors let down their guard. Showed that rare weakness when solo.

Out here, alone on her land she could drop whatever mask worn during the day. Every false courage or nicety and just be..... Well her.

Logan found himself drawn to dwell on the things that brought him here. Those messed up situations. Ancients were dangerous if properly utilized. And in very short supply. He would have to make sure this one didn't fall into the wrong path. If she hadn't already. After all witches and wolves always had this unspoken bond. And he was protective of her without even knowing the woman properly.

He could see light in her, simmering inches from the surface. And that in itself was a thing of beauty. Maybe she would be different to the last Ancient he'd met. Just maybe.

****

There was so much activity in the bar it was hard to notice much of anything. From the louder than life workmen that were blowing off steam after a long slog shiftwise. To the gaggle of women out for a birthday party. And a plethora of those who seemed old and weather beaten. A symbolic 'part of the furniture'.  
When Logan had questioned the bustle upon first arriving, he found himself answered by a wiry, sandy haired man.

This was just a typical Thursday, with quote 'the usual suspects'. If the proprietor, a certain Sam, was to be believed. He knew their names and far too much about their lives for them to be mere passersby. So Logan conceded they must be regular patrons, like his new acquaintance had alluded to.

Merlottes seemed to be a jovial place. Not exactly family friendly but nice nonetheless. Somewhere you could loose yourself or even forget your woes.

Sam Merlotte was an outgoing sort. His voice filling the place. The man was friendly but business like. And Logan found himself warming to him immediately. He'd nose picked up on canine aura surrounding the man. Either a dog owner or some sort of shifter himself. It eased their gelling. Being cousins of sorts genetic wise. So Logan relaxed enough to lean against the bar and chat for a while before picking out a table.

It took his mind off aches germinating through his upper torso. Which was a bonus until he found some healing ointments or painkillers. The town was small, but in no means simple. The wolf would find what he sought eventually. Maybe at first break. He had chosen to return the car rental for something he was more at home with. A two wheeled gas guzzler no less. It was more conspicuous, but now that initial footwork had been completed, he didn't worry all too much who noticed him.

Logan slurped from the chilled neck of his beer. Placing it down on a coaster before unzipping his scratched up leather coat. Reaching in to the soft lining, to find that concealed breast pocket. Finding what he was looking for. That token from his recon mission. Sighing heavily he pulled out the retrieved concoction. Certain that no one in this place would bother him. A safe assumption that he could examine it properly now. Fingering the small container, deep in thought.

He was fully aware that the mixing of certain chemicals took part in the combination of plants and herbs, but never had they been so potent. So raw and pure. As if made to use on an army, not one individual. The vial was, no doubt, one used for syringes. Had that usual medicinal appearance.

But why would someone hinged to magic resort to such measures? It seemed almost aggressive and cold. More to inflict pain than anything else. Such elevated doses made Logan wonder about the secrecy surrounding it's origin. Had it been merely made and hidden away or actually put to use? Why? To what effect?

He wondered if she had studied medicine. Or something of that nature. The pureness of the Calamis would have been worked over in laboratory settings. Drip drained to squeeze out its full essential potency. He could make such calculated answers given his knowledge thus far. Thanking his blessings that he'd been in the field of genetics. Read enough books on it at least. This dosage was about fifty times higher, give or take, than was normally used in third generation purebloods. So there was a possibility that it hadn't caused fatality. Seeing as it's position was hidden in that wardrobe. A closet which heavily entwined with the scent of hybrid.

He surmised that the original was the intended victim, not any mere wolf. But a supercharged, vampiric version no less. She had taken precautions. Admirable, albeit stupid. There would be reprisals for such acts. Giving the woman a huge target in her back. May as well be a death toll knell. Logan scratched idly at his chin.

"One Merlottes special, extra onions, hold the peppers."

The announcement of his food came from over his shoulder. Promptly followed by the glowing appearance of the waitresses glowing. She was average height, which of course meant she came no more than just below his shoulder level.

Grinning widely, earrings glistening under halogen lights. They were hoops. Big, plain but they bobbed along every time she spoke. Half hidden by a cascade of red hair. A colour he presumed came out of a bottle.

Unnatural in shade. It spoke of manufactured goodness. But it shone with good conditioning and health. Logan found it brought out her rosy cheeks. Gave the woman a younger appearance, for she must have been about in her late thirties.

"There you go hun," she chirped," enjoy."

Placing the hot plate in front of him, Logan smiled. Taking a moment to read her nametag.

"Thanks Miss Arlene, this looks great."

Her grin got bigger. She appreciated they fact he'd used her name.

"Just Arlene's fine," she beamed, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder as she moved to walk away," holler if you need anything, Kay?"

"Sure," he returned her friendly tone," and thanks again."

"Such manners," she chuckled," my kids could do with learnin' a thing or two bout that..."

Logan pulled out a paper napkin, regarding her with interest. People had always been his study. Mannerisms, actions. They way in which they interacted with the world.

"Table six up!!" A shout echoed from the kitchen.

"I'm coming," she replied. Muttering inaudibly whilst putting her notepad into the front apron pocket properly.

"Getting cold!" Another shout.

"God damn Lafayette, I'm coming," she shot back, shuffling towards the kitchen.

"Bouts time too," a face appeared, before two plates were shoved into her hands,"hooker, I thought you gots a man?

"I do," she hissed back.

"Uh, hmnn," he raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow,"and what's René gonna think to this. Fawning over some other hunk o' man meat..."

"Lafayette!" She snapped,"bein' friendly ain't no crime.."

"Longs as that all it is," he clicked salad thongs her way.

"Oh pleaseee," the word sounded out longer than necessary," Don't come at me so holier than though. You get up to far worse... Anyhow niceness earns tips.. "

The man grinned slyly, gyrating his hips suggestively, "oohhh, tell me about 'em Tips girl!!"

Clicking heels she walked away from him quickly, shooting back a quick jibe," I swear you have a one track mind Lafayette Reynolds and you're damned for it. "

Logan smiled to himself. These were his kind of people. Shoot from the hip, upfront. Nothing really to hide.  
Picking up a chip he chewed it quietly. Content to listen and watch the world go by. This was the closest he came to pack life anymore. Surrounded by a wall of sound. Jovial, ever changing atmosphere. It reminded him of their numerous gatherings. He was content to sit back soaking in the ambiance back then, the same could be said of now.

And so he did. In a pub full of strangers, Logan felt the peace of coming home.


	18. Chapter 18

Niklaus almost smiled at how ridiculous Camilles statement had been. Almost being the operative word.

She was on the verge of being decidedly child-like in her idealism. Seeing the best in everyone was a comfort he couldn't partake in. It would have been refreshing, charmingly cute even, if he'd, in fact been in the correct frame of mind for dealing with positive influences. Those 'dreamers' of the world, of which she was undeniably a part of.

The title being a certain label he'd given those who were of little threat to him or his family, those in whom he had some kind of romantic attraction. The kind of women who posed a challenge and had unique beauty in the aura surrounding them. Usually females with the courage of their own convictions. The ones unafraid to stand up and say their piece.

It had been the same with the self confidence of Caroline. Camille exuded her own fearless face. And it was one he'd come to not only love but admire.

She'd spotted him arguing with Marcel and confronted him at the next so called 'session' they had. Relieved that her subject matter wasn't of their relationship.  For when she had stormed in looking positively charged, he had feared she would demand some clarification on where that kiss left them now. He truly cared for Camille but hated putting labels on anything. Especially in so early a stage as this one. 

But she brought up the topic of Marcel, giving him chance to breathe. The minefield that was intimacy would remain untouched for another day. 

Camille stood her ground,  attempting to drag out an answer which satisfied her. But Niklaus had an art full way of avoiding such probing. After all deviousness ran in his genes, no doubt from his mothers side. It was a cunning wife who convinced her husband that their child had perished, then bore a babe with another during a time of weakness. She had been confident enough to continue the rouse even though it hurt so many. They only hide it kept safe was hers. Lies fell from maternal lips like the essence of life itself.

Such a moral compass was one he'd somehow inherited. However inadvertently. After all deception was a thing a child wasn't born capable of. It was learned.  And he excelled in not only that subject but the ones of torture and pain.

It used to make Niklaus uncomfortable thinking on such things. Now he put it down to warped DNA. His Aunt Dahlia had been twice the monster Esther was. Witches through and through. With such brand ambassadors, who could fault him for hating the magically inclined. 

A father who despised and demeaned him every chance he got, a mother who suppressed a power that would have helped him defend himself.  Little wonder he didn't know how to cope with others in this new age of social proprietary.

Niklaus blamed his upbringing, or lack thereof for all his issues to date.

It was the reason for this recent butting into his affairs. Questioning how he dealt with another vampire. A quibble from the very lips of a therapist who he'd expressed a fondness for. 

She'd insisted on calling their daily meetings 'sessions' but he refuted her. Yet she was determined to turn them into just that. Which was truly astounding given his closed nature the moment she hinted at anything close to personal.

Camille was a sound board and typist. She was meant to write up his memoirs, under his expressed direction. And although she had initially refused the money he gave her in the form of cheques. He was glad to see she'd stopped attempting to return them. 

Niklaus could soothe himself with the notion that she was cashing said cheques. But he couldn't bring himself to get the account looked at to make sure. It would be bittersweet if in fact the payments were still languishing there and not on her bank. Hell maybe he should have just opened up savings in her name and given her the details when they were closer to the conclusion of his story.

But he knew that he'd find excuses to never be done with his tales that spanned a millennia. It was becoming increasingly hard to paper over his darker deeds. Of course he'd mentioned some of his bad spells, but Niklaus was known to be methodical and creative with his punishments and wrath. Some of his more 'hannibal-esque' moments were best kept to himself like small token reminders in the cobwebs of his attic. Tarantulas that lived there could pull them up out of sight. keep said acts from sweeping in and drowning him. Unbeknownst to him, very like Elijah's red door, Niklaus had a plethora of hiding spaces in his mind palace to secret things away so he didn't have to face them.

His fingers appraised the gold diamond earrings, nestled in a velvet box. They were simple but elegant. A two drop affair. The main diamond drew most of your eye to it while the simple gold tear drop lead down to another smaller but equally beautiful crystal.

'Camille will love these,'He thought wryly. imagining having to talk her into accepting them.

She was loathe to take gifts. But from him, if presented in the correct manner maybe her mind may waver. Err on the side of joy and not over think the reasons behind them.

It was simple. Niklaus found her to be beautiful, intelligent, optimistic and in her own way innocent. She asked him the why's to each action from his vast past, and how he'd felt. Oftentimes Niklaus hadn't even begun to dissect how his emotions played big factors in everything he did. He just knew that in order to be top dog, feared, he must be benevolent. That was enough. But in fact if truth be told, he'd found companionship at the bottom of a bottle, empty with guilt that hadn't been given its correct place.

Camille had challenged him over taking Marcel into hand. Roughing up his friend, a boy he'd changed and saved from the lashes of whips.

She was under the illusion that maybe Marcel was telling the truth, that he, 'didn't know where Rebekah was.' That this ire somehow reflected the badness, and untrustworthy side of Niklaus, for he couldn't accept his friends answer as truth.

The slight glint in Marcels chocolate orbs had told a more honest story. Behind a veil of 'truth' laid the more ugly reality.

He knew 'exactly' where Rebekah Mikaelson was, and took immense joy in letting Niklaus sweat. Bating him on. Infuriating the original with his act of innocence. Forcing Niklaus to show his hands,  in acts of sadistic force. Which the hybrid would do, happily.  To make a point. If Marcel wanted him to draw out blood from those around them, he would. The original would beat out answers, let the body count mount up until Marcel finally caved. It was a game of chicken to see who'd fold first. One Niklaus was dead set on winning. 

Marcel had been wily to start with, the Mikaelsons had made him something more. Pulled out the dark seeded desires and encouraged them to flourish.

And how well they bloomed.

Ah, sweet Camille, she knew so very little of his and Marcels relationship. Only the small things she'd gleamed over the past couple of years.

But what of the decades preceding her arrival in New Orleans? Those were the unknowns the equations she couldn't sum up. And the loss of them tainted her view in the vampires favor.

For with Klaus Mikaelson, his name made people quake. He was unyielding, arrogant, full of rage. How could she possibly see Marcels quiet fury when the hybrids bore a flame so bright none could miss it?

Yet Niklaus knew his 'son' held grudges, and was more than able to scheme. So there was no way the vampires hands were clean. He was up to something. Him and the beautiful Rebekah. All that Niklaus really wondered about was whether Elijah was in on the ground floor or just willing bystander.

Flexing his hand to steady the teacup that had began to tremble with fury. He forced himself to take a sip. Calming himself with the notion that he would get to the bottom of this new conspiracy. Toying also with the idea that he may need to dagger one, or both of them.

After all, this is the longest amount of time in centuries that they'd spent together, and his family were getting on his nerves. They made him want to quite literally kill people. For no reason other than to shock them into silence and remind them of their place in the pecking order.

But things had changed now. He softened with Hope. His daughter growing up so fast he couldn't very well explain away their absence idly. No.

They would fall back in line or he'd have to break something pretty of theirs. Render them hollow. It would be hard to crack Elijah, he reasoned. After all he'd already taken away that which his brother sought.

Hayley.

Niklaus had drove her practically up the alter to marry Jackson. And Elijah's spirit dropped further still. Though the man didn't crumble, he guessed how his brothers heart was squashed.

The wolf would be forever in their lives yet out of his reach. A true punishment. 

***

Rebekah pulled down a pair of gradient tinted Dior sunglasses. Shielding her eyes from the sparked white that glinted off the seascape as she drove. Wind whipped her face, keeping it cool even though heat was causing waves of condensation to rise steadily from the tarmac.

This was the life, she smiled. Mortality as she remembered it over a thousand years ago.

A rash of burn tipped her nose and cheeks. She pulled towards an embankment with the reminder to top up in sun lotion. A thing she never had to worry about until now. Flipping down the driver mirror Rebekah mumbled in dissatisfaction. She'd never get used to this short croppy hairstyle. Always having luscious long strands to play with. This lack of length meant less time fussing in the morning. But a tad too tomboy for her. Maybe the pixie style suited some people, but Rebekah just didn't like it on a personal level. Heaving a generous amount of cool cream onto her palm she took to the task of becoming sun safe. The human form she had borrowed would probably end up lobster like if proper precautions weren't taken.

Vibrating came from the cell holder. Pausing a moment she flicked pastel blue orbs over the caller ID.   
Elijah.

Her heart got heavier. Ignoring the continued dance the phone made against plastic grip, to rub lotion in completely to her nose and forehead. Following a T shaped line with more concentration than was necessary. It kept her focused on something mundane. Not the fact that she'd annoyed one brother and caused the other immense worry.

She shrugged, hearing the ping that signaled a voicemail had been left.To hell with it Niklaus and Elijah would cope without her. Rebekah had never really wanted to go back to New Orleans in the first place. The only positives were her niece, and Hayley. The newer members to their family, more than made up for Niks scheming ways. She'd loved looking after the baby. It'd almost squashed down the maternal pangs of her own that reared up from time to time.

But Rebekah knew with her life and diabolical family, getting children involved was possibly the worst idea in the world. Things were working out for Hope, that was true, but she was Niklaus blood. Not exactly a child he could harm by daggering a parent for a few decades.

Which is more than likely what would have befallen her, if herself, or any of the rest of the Mikaelson clan had procreated.

ThankfullyForat was a null point now. She didn't have to unduly have to worry about her children facing the wrath of an uncle who bordered on neurotic. Yes. Being a vampire made such things an impossibility.

The blue light continued to flash on her phone, a mild irritant. Leaning over she unlocked the thing. Putting it on speaker so she could listen to the latest of Elijah's rants.

"Rebekah, sister."

She keyed the engine to life once more. Checking the side mirror as she pulled out onto the virtually empty road.

So softly, softly was his current approach. Rebekah smiled gently. It was hard for her to make him worry. Her older brother was caring and loyal. He took it upon himself to be the glue to their family.

Seeing as Finn had never been too inclined to do that. Considered too adult to be a child and too young to be an adult. Finn had always battled with his place withing their sibling line up.

After all, he was treated as first born,eldest, even though for years that hadn't been the case. Freya was his first friend. Elder sister and one he was attached to, until she was gone.

Rebekah had a sinking feeling that loosing her had effected him far more than anyone realised. A thing the eldest Mikaelson hadn't bounced back from.

It was true in the beginning Finn doted on her, but that tapered off. Seeing as his younger brothers stepped in. The eternal duo of Nik and Elijah. They had been her constant companions. As playmates and more. Their trio a patchwork made of rich life's lessons learned together. Even when Kol and Henrik came along, nothing seemed to be able to dampen that bond. One which remained to this day, despite all the horrors that plagued them.

"Please leave word that you are safe. It is most disconcerting to have a disappearance like this." His voice paused, sighing," I'm not angry I promise, merely puzzled as to the nature of your leave."

His concern could have been on billboards in front of her. The tones in his voice resonating such stress. Despite the urge to put his mind at ease, she knew what said outcome would be. He would talk her into coming back. Or meet halfway, which would be just as bad. Seeing her brother would manifest in guilt for leaving him to handle their hybrid sibling alone.

And that just wouldn't do. Besides that he'd see her latest acquisition. This rather spiffy mortal body. On the Pros and Cons, she was strictly in one clever, yet rather heartless lane.

Rebekah loved Elijah immensely. For that almost paternal way of his. More so a father than brother at times. Maybe its because she butted heads with their actual father too many times. She found him to be a vile and cruel man. Seeing as she was close to Niklaus, Rebekah had a more venomous reaction to Mikael whenever he reprimanded his son.

She hated to see his bruises. The fear they all had in varying stages towards the viking was amplified in Niklaus. He seemed to be magnet to most of the anger, which in turn made her brother not scared but vengeful. He was beginning to become withdrawn, isolated at points. His loving, creative nature squashed up into a crumpled heap to make way for a darker person. Nik was loosing his childhood, his character changing. Rebakah didn't want to see what would be left of her brother once the transformation was complete. If she'd even recognise her own sibling, instead of a stranger wearing his face.

For that one reason she was more than willing to kill for him. Just to end their fathers torture. Halt the transition. If Elijah hadn't caught her when he did the viking would have been slain in his slumber when she was no more than fifteen.

"I implore you sister, get in contact. You're presence is greatly missed."

The call ended. Short, sweet, precise to the point. Elijah always cut to the chase. Rebekah had to smile. Always so predictable, even in their 'spontaneity'. That was her lovely family.

Pushing the car up a gear, she put that aside for now. Hidden in the oblique unknown, taking random tracks as roads formed out around her. She was going to take this chance to be free, powering her phone off. She penciled in getting a new number. Having left arrangements with Marcel and Alicia to email with regular updates, Rebekah needed a communication line. 

So with this plan she headed eastwards towards the city limits.

**Author's Note:**

> More to follow, please bear with me.
> 
> Trying to organise my thoughts is an insane task  
>   
> Please feel free to comment, always good to get some feedback!!  
> Much love!  
> Have a great day❤


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